I was reading Scarriet (a poetry blog) the other day and read about them crashing Anne Carson out of their little March Madness for poets.

Naturally, I disagreed with the result.

I have loved Anne Carson since 2001. I was browsing through books in a Books-a-Million (which once upon a time was not just crap that other bookstores only put on their bargain shelf, but actually stocked good books) on DuPont Circle back in 2001 when I stumbled on Men in the Off Hours. Just a few moments of flipping through the pages convinced me that this was something I had to purchase right then and there.

She has been one of my favorites ever since. The mixture of the arch, the classical, and the quotidian – I love it. Men in the Off Hours or Glass, Irony and God would be good places to start if you haven’t read her yet and were looking for a good intro to her style.

Postscript: Check out this Paris Review interview with Carson.

Sundays, Mondays, Thursdays, and Fridays from 4-6pm are when you can trade in your old books for cash or store credit at Capitol Hill Books.

The proprietor is comfortingly curmudgeonly and doesn’t brook argument nor negotiation in the process. I brought in six books and was given seven dollars store credit, which was noted and filed on an index card.

I brought in four volumes of the late Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time series. Seeing as how the Wheel is twelve volumes (and counting – the series is being completed by Brandon Sanderson, based on notes left behind by Jordan, who was not caught unaware by his death and made plans for someone else to be able to finish the series, more or less as he had intended) and not particularly good, I can’t imagine going back later and re-reading them. Don’t get me wrong – I’m going to finish the damn series. I’m on the sixth book and have invested  (wasted?) too much of my time to give up now. But to cling to volumes I’ve finished, when the writing can best be described as “cluttered” and “lacking in humor” seems to be a gross misuse of bookshelf space, which is at a premium right now.

Another book I brought in was one of the Harry Potter novels. This may sound like heresy, but it seems to have escaped many people’s notice that the Harry Potter novels are crap. I’d bought this one for some young relatives and found it still in my possession because it turned out they already had that volume. I did read the first one and the strongest sensation it generated what the strong desire to read something better. If you enjoyed Harry Potter, may I suggest you pick up a copy of Ursula K. LeGuin’s A Wizard of Earthsea to find out how it’s really done.

Finally, I traded in a copy of Richard Wilbur’s Inner Voices. Normally, I would never get rid of a book of poetry, but Wilbur is an exception. I can’t stand him. I wish I could remember what misguided thoughts compelled me to purchase this book from the Hollywood Borders so that I would know to ignore them in the future.

This was the bounty for which I received seven dollars.

I browsed to crowded (with both books and patrons) aisles for something to spend my new riches on. Mostly, I was torn between a Modern Library edition of the selected writings of Saint Thomas Aquinas (a beautiful little volume, with a smooth, hard red cover and the smell of suitably aged tome) and something from Harvard’s Loeb Classical Library. In the end, I didn’t get anything. Partly because the Aquinas was $8.50 and the Loebs were $15 – which is to say, more than the value of my credit. Also, I wasn’t sure how my better half would respond if I brought home another book (she was working near the book store and would undoubtedly have seen me pass by, carrying my new used book. Maybe I’ll see if there is anything else I can stand to be rid of on my shelf to try and build up to either $8.50 (plus tax) or $15 (plus tax).

Bridgestreet Books on the eastern edge of Georgetown is Washington, DC treasure. With a narrow, two story space, their collection is not large, but is rather impeccably curated. One of its employees is also the local poet Rod Smith (I purchased his 1999 collection, Protective Immediacy a while back).

Many, many years ago (actually, ten years ago) I lived in Georgetown. Somehow, I accomplished while also being poor. Part of my poverty was my insatiable habit of constantly buying books. I worked for a small non-profit situated just behind the Supreme Court building. Rather going home by way of the nearest metro stop, I would take the red line to Dupont Circle and make the long (ninety minutes or more) walk from there to my apartment near the Key Bridge. On my way home, I would pass so many bookstores that my mouth would water.

I got off the metro by Kramerbooks & Afterwords. Across the street from them was a now defunct used bookstore (I remember that I bought a copy of Kant’s Critique of Judgement from them). Around the corner was Second Story Books. On M Street, on my way home, was a Barnes & Noble.

And then there was Bridgestreet.

They would keep outside their store some racks filled with interesting (and cheap books) that were the immediate lure. And then there was the inside…

Such an enormous poetry section for such a small store! And filled with contemporary and avant-gards poets! Sections set aside for Cultural Theory! A bookshelf of just Greek and Roman classics! And so many small press lit mags (many locally published)!

It was my favorite bookstore among the ones I would pass. I recall that I bought a dozen of those inexpensive little Dover Publications books and a book of essays by Emma Goldman.

Nowadays, it is not so easy to get there from my home on the Hill, but I never visit Georgetown without stopping by.

On May 21, former Poet Laureate Rober Hass is coming to the Folger Shakespeare Library!

I must add a little post-script to my post about Borders. Last year, a Borders near Metro Center closed shop. That particular location was probably too close to its rival, Barnes & Noble. But now, the one near 18th and L, close to my old office, is apparently closing up. With that closure, there will be no Borders anywhere near my home in Capitol Hill.

Firstly, let me apologize for my extended absence. Not that anyone really noticed. Except for a few family members, I don’t really have any regular readers and my single day record for unique visitors was 51 (and that was back in September). But still, we plug along, sending our thoughts out into the vacuum of (cyber)space.

I was inspired to write here again by this little bit o’ fluff from the New York Times about coffeehouses that don’t allow e-readers in their establishments.

Leaving aside the fact that it seems unfair single out e-readers, unless they are just hard core bibliophiles and this is an effort to protect traditional publishers and bookstores – but let’s be honest, this is just about getting us in and out as quickly as possible so they can maximize profits, it brings to mind the question of the true utility of the coffeehouse.

They are certainly well within their rights to try and maximize their profits, but I cannot help attaching a certain social responsibility for coffeehouses. This comes from my high school and college days, when coffeehouse, by and large, were not places where one found quality coffee, but rather primarily existed as social venues – a place to create gathering places from the sixties, places to read your poetry, play your music, talk politics and art, and play chess with strangers. Now that I’m older and a little more knowledgeable, I would say that the true model were the coffeehouses of 16th century England. Dispensing a bitter, burnt brew, but primarily hotbeds of debate and even relative egalitarianism.

This is not the only model for the coffeehouse, of course. Very near my apartment in Washington, DC is a place called Peregrine Coffee. It specializes in extremely well brewed coffee – and on that level, it succeeds. It has tables and seating and even free wi-fi, but the vibe is not to sit and socialize, but more to get your coffee and go. I have never gone there just to hang out, only to get coffee or to have meetings with people for a very specific purpose. The decor is very stripped down and functional (no big comfy chairs) and inspires an “all business” attitude.