This week, I stopped by the aforementioned book sale twice: The first time, I hit the LPs. The second time, I hit the dollar books.
I don’t have a picture of the 42 LPs I bought, but rest assured they include a lot of Frank Sinatra, a couple of Herb Alpert titles I did not have (and one, Rise, which I own on CD), a new Eydie Gorme (Don’t Go To Strangers), a collection of Shakespeare plays, a collection of poetry, and a lot of new things to try.
On Thursday, I hit the better books and I got these:
Three ex-library science fiction novels (James P. Hogan’s Moon Flower, John Varley’s Rolling Thunder, and Alan Dean Foster’s The Candle of Distant Earth) and two bundles of chapbooks and whatnot that were a buck each.
Unwrapping the bundles to see what they included was a little like Christmas. I got a number of poetry chapbooks and a couple little one story or essay booklets given away with other purchases.
I’ve often been pleasantly surprised when buying bundled remainders like this, whether it’s the ten-packs of old 45 records from jukeboxes or three-packs of old comic books at the drug store. Maybe I’ll discover something cool in these collections.
Note, gentle reader, the restraint evident in these trips. The restraint stems partially from the fact that I was sneaking out on a work day and didn’t want to spend too much time at the sale and partially from the ongoing collapse of my book shelves.