I’m up early today, for a Sunday morning. I’ve got a fiction bunny bouncing around my head. It has something to do with a tub of ice cream and prison. Go figure.
Now that Muse, the second-hand bookshop at LKF, is closing, I went to two secondhanders at SoHo that I’ve never been to, Flow and Collectables. Cheeeaap.
From Flow I bought Peter Hoeg’s Borderliners, Marina Lewycka’s A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian, Frank McCourt’s Teacher Man, Magda Szabo’s The Door, Angela Carter’s Nights at the Circus, the fourth volume of W. Somerset Maugham’s Collected Short Stories, Richard Flanagan’s Gould’s Book of Fish, and Scott McCloud’s triumphant Understanding Comics which I’ve read a bit of in university for a comic book class and which I’ve always wanted to get a copy for myself and read the rest.
I didn’t buy from Collectables because the books were already feeling heavy and Collectables has a much smaller range of fiction books and specializes more on old records. Then I went down to Hollywood Road, and across the old Victoria Prison was a 24/7 breakfast restaurant, The Flying Pan, where for dinner I had two scrambled eggs, a steak, baked beans, a garden salad, four slices of buttered toast, cranberry juice, and a tall frosty rootbeer float. And basically a nice cozy place playing jazz at Old Bailey Road where I could read a bit of Scott McCloud as the sun set over Hong Kong.