No, not the classic wuxia movie, but this recreation of a Tibetan Buddhist shrine. I spoke to one of the security guard’s who said that she transferred to the Asian Art Museum just because she wanted the tranquility that rooms like this offered.
I was walking back towards Eastern Market on Sunday and made a point of walking Riverby Books. I have been trying to restrain my book buying habit lately but it was on my way back (I’d been visiting some museums earlier) so why not?
And I saw… well, you can see the pictures.
It was never my favorite, partly because it was a little more expensive than other used bookstores but it had some wonderful rare books and its selection was high quality.
Seeing this left me feeling very melancholy. The bookstore was sold to new owners a year or so ago, so one hoped they would have kept it going.
I went into the office on a Sunday because I simply couldn’t believe that over the course of four and a half day holiday weekend I hadn’t received any work emails (I hadn’t but then again, our systems were being spotty and people claimed to have tried to send me documents).
Upon discovering that my fears were groundless and having already found parking downtown, I decided to spend a little flaneur time.
First, the National Museum of Women in the Arts.
The museum was not only free that day but featured a Book Art Festival, which is a fancy way of saying that young, creative types set up tables with their zines and chapbooks and letterpress creations.
Naturally, I bought five books. One of those books was a book of art reproductions created in the wake of Trump’s election which leads to my next fortuitous encounter.
While walking to Chinatown in search of noodles, I passed by a sign that pointed through a door and up some stairs to the Center for Contemporary Political Art.
I can’t remember where this was recommended to me as an excellent fantasy novel by a female writer whose work is in danger of being overlooked these days, but it made enough of an impression that I bought this when I saw it at library book sale near my house. Unfortunately, Ms. Bujold will boy get royalties on the dollar I gave the Southeast library. Fortunately, I did get a good book. I devoured it as quickly as I could over the first few days that I had it.
A damaged hero. A princess (not meant for the hero; but he has his own love interest, holding a more suitably lesser status). Interesting and brutal (though not unnecessarily grim) politics and a religious system that I suspect George R.R. Martin of having borrowed from and an interesting magical ecosystem. The setting, despite stabs at new nomenclature, is basic western medieval. The ending drags on, but that’s not the worst sin.
The little one saw her first Shakespeare play last night: Love’s Labours Lost.
If you have ever read this blog before (and ninety percent of you who have are my mother), then you know how much I love the edifice and institution that is the Folger Shakespeare Library and how unsurprising it is that her first experience of live theater (we are not including Frozen on Ice) would be there.
It is not his finest play, but there is some of Shakespeare’s most elegant language and some of his most arch sex jokes. While the more than usually high language passed her by, she loved watching the performances and madcap antics (and costumes).