Neon Memes • During the past four decades, from Cape Girardeau to Crystal City, from Farmington to the former Flat River, I've haunted independent bookstores wherever and whenever possible. Now, nowadays, I treasure having Amazon just a few keystrokes away, as well as working across Brentwood Boulevard from a Borders―but I'll never, ever bypass an indie. In that light, I just reconnoitered a local newbie of note: Webster Groves' Pudd'nhead Books (37 S. Old Orchard Avenue, 314.918.1069). Open from 9 a.m. to 9 p.m. daily, it occupies a small, tidy space organized with obvious love both according to category and according to more whimsical dictates. ("For Smarties," reads one shelf to the left of the entrance; another, "For Hippies.") On my visit, I noted on display the latest novel from SF prodigy Charles Stross, an anthology of the "newest" new journalism and other temptations. I could have dropped a C-note easily on additions to my personal library. Instead, altruistically, I bought a Christmas gift for my father, the new trade paperback edition of [detail embargoed till December 26―no peeking, Pa!]. In 144-point sans serif on a red band, the bag containing my purchase read, "Peace. Love. Books." Slogan-wise, that so works for me. ―Bryan A. Hollerbach, Managing Editor
Not Everyone (Thankfully!) Has Gone All Kindle
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