I went to The Strand. Or should I say THE STRAND? Or Le Goddamn Strand? Now that I have been there, it's impossible not to capitalize its name. Or italicize it. Or not imagine an organ player strike a dramatic chord every time somebody pronounce its name. There are not many bookstore in Manhattan. Except for the almighty Strand, I've only came across one Borders, which I was very unimpressed with. The store was all over the place and the fiction section was a LOT smaller than what it is at Indigo and Chapters on Ste-Catherine street in Montreal. But The Strand? *dramatic chord* It's something so unique, so intense, that New Yorkers don't need another bookstore. They just need to show up at the corner of 12th Street and Broadway.
When you walk into The Strand, it looks like any other bookstore. Except that all the display titles stacks, where the Oprah book club selections, the fake memoirs and the cookbooks are replaced by great fiction that the staff thinks it would be cool if you read them. I picked up three novels from the first stack, but then there was another. Then another. Then another one. I had to start choosing my titles about six minutes in. Then, when I thought it was over, I noticed the shelves. Enormous shelves that spiraled around the place, crammed full of books, going up to a ceiling so high that a seven foot tall person would have to stretch out to reach. There are ladders in every rows. GODDAMN LADDERS, AVAILABLE FOR CLIENTS. And they have THREE FLOORS. The third is a collection of rare books, which include a first edition signed by the author, Adventures Of Sherlock Holmes. I think I feinted when I saw that.
Surprisingly enough, they don't have everything. They didn't have any Megan Abbott or Stanley Elkin. They didn't have Dog Soldiers, but unlike every other bookstore I've been in, they have the all the other Robert Stone novels. This one just happened to be missing. And did I mention the prices? That's the most beautiful part. Not only they have a wider selection of titles than any other bookstore I've been in, a killer display and a collection of rare books that made me drool, but they also had the lowest prices I've ever seen. See the loot in that picture? In Montreal, my guess is that I would've paid around a hundred and ten dollars for it. At The Strand? Forty-nine bucks. A whole month's worth of reading (maybe even six weeks, depending on my pace) and a killer mug, for the price of two books in Montreal. Nothing makes me happier than cheap books. Let's examine the loot.
Killer mug: Not only it looks good, it's also huge. The handle is a great fit for my big paws.
Jonathan Lethem - The Wall Of The Sky, The Wall Of The Eye: Been looking to get into Lethem for a while now. While I was looking at a copy of Chronic City, Josie pulled this one from the shelf. It was shorter and ridiculously cheaper than the novel, who are ridiculously cheap. Plus, if I don't like Lethem, this is not even two hundred pages.
Robert Penn Warren - All The King's Men: Recommended to me by Heath Lowrance. I've been looking at this one from a distance for a while, because the only copy I've ever seen in Montreal neared thirty dollars. No need to tell you the price of this one pushed the book in my hands. Maybe the book I bought I'm most excited to read.
Jim Thompson - Roughneck: I have yet to read Thompson, the inspiration of a whole generation of writers. I wanted to take the opportunity of coming to The Strand to get my hands on cheap paperbacks. Unfortunately, they had just one, who seems to be a memoir. It's cool, I have to start somewhere.
David Sedaris - When You Are Engulfed In Flames: The lovely Brenna, from Literary Musings clued me on to Sedaris. She has a great taste in books and I'm a newly found essay reader. What tipped the scales for me is the title. I always wondered what to do when I am engulfed in flames. Because it's going to happen someday. Another book that Josie might nab from my shelf before I read it.
Ernest Hemingway - A Moveable Feast: THE Hemingway I was looking to read next, but couldn't find in Montreal. At The Strand, copies were piles up like pancakes on a display stack. Needless to say, the crazy-low price shoved this book in my arms also. I felt a bit like Scrooge McDuck over there, but I spend so much on books, having them at such a low price was straight out of a dream for me.
Only one of those books cost me more than ten bucks. Try to guess.
