Life is just a bookstore

We stayed on the Oregon coast this weekend. It being Oregon, it was cold and damp, so we did visit a few sites, and were surprised to see the Coast Guard Training ship the Eagle in Astoria (worth a visit if you are in the area.) And of course we hit some bookstores. Astoria has a decent number for a small town and in one of them I heard a flash of a Jimmy Buffett song. The people at the attached coffee bar began to wonder aloud just who the singer was. After a few names were bandied about, one fellow remarked that it could be Jimmy Buffett, although he did not pronounce it to rhyme with that which Miss Tuffett sat on. Instead he pronounced to rhyme with the decadent French dessert.

At first I approved thinking he was mocking Buffett, but then he repeated it a number of times and I realized he thought this was the correct pronunciation. I considered mentioning the true way to say it, but decided against it as A) it would be terribly rude and B) it would reveal my all too great knowledge of the singer and his oeuvre. The song, you see, was My African Friend, one that only those who have spent far too many hours listening to Buffett will recognize.

Anyway, I bought quite a few books at the coast. I found a used copy of McCarry's Second Sight, one of the few Paul Christopher books I have yet to read. I also found a copy of Karl Schroeder's Sun of Suns. I've not read any of his books, but the blurbs looked good. And it was only two dollars.

Whenever I am at the beach I stop by the Book Warehouse, a place where unpopular books go to die. This is a store of all remainders, so many of the books are not of interest. Whenever I stop by, I find a gem or two. In this case, there was this biography of Chiang Kai Shek as well as Kevin Phillip's the Cousin's Wars, which I am quite excited to read.

Since I read only two books over the weekend (one of which was a library book,) my book stack is now three books higher than it was when I started.