Today I scoped out a Goodwill a few miles from the one I normally haunt, the one whose quality has recently been going down, down, down. By the end of the scope it was certain: this new location is siphoning off the good stuff, and sending the remaining trash to my branch! The store was having a sale: All Books 20¢. Greed is sinful, especially on Ash Wednesday, except when books only cost 20¢. The Antique Nut in me thrilled to find a highly embossed (and highly corny) novel from 1909, with an old Victorian floral calling card sandwiched between the ornate pages. The English Major in me yodelled when she spied a textbook from 1963 with whole chapters devoted to my two favorite subjects: Sentence Structure (complete with the intricate diagrams anorexic, acne-scarred, ex-stewardess Miss Modell taught us way back in 7th grade) and Clear Thinking (with an important sub-chapter, Irrelevancies.) The English Major also was happy to find books by two of her favorite authors, real Authors of Literature, not hacks: Flannery O'Connor and Joe David Brown (who wrote Addie Pray, a book which is even better than the wonderful movie made of it, Paper Moon.) I stood in front of the bookshelf reading the final pages of Wise Blood by Miss O'Connor as hair rose on the back of my neck. Why is she so ding-dang great? Gawd! How could I have forgotten her greatness? I guess my mind has been slushed by all the junk I've been reading since the ecstatic brainwaves of my youth passed into the ethers. It takes more hormones than currently inhabit my body to read things which affect me intensely. It felt dangerous today, anyway. Back to the Emilie Lorings! (Of which I found 18 more...none of them repeats of the ones snared yesterday!)
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