After watching Sunshine (which you absolutely have to see on the most massive screen possible, by the way, so don't even think about waiting for the DVD) at the Cumberland we strolled down Yonge Street and ended up in a fantastic used bookstore. Eliot's Bookshop is a wonderful place to lose track of time, three floors of cheap books crammed together in tall wooden shelving units (complete with sliding ladders and numerous step stools to make top shelves accessible). I wandered around for what I later realized was hours, alternately picking up novels by Jane Rule, John Irving, Joyce Carol Oates, Maya Angelou, Joseph O'Connor, Nick Hornby and so on and so on.
Really, I shouldn't buy anymore books. I have nowhere left to put them and sections of our apartment already resemble the below but Eliot's was so convincing in its love for the written word that I couldn't resist.
In the end I restricted myself to a single novel but I'll definitely be back. The chief pleasure of secondhand bookstores is never knowing what treasure you'll stumble across and the fun comes from searching as much it does finding.
Really, I shouldn't buy anymore books. I have nowhere left to put them and sections of our apartment already resemble the below but Eliot's was so convincing in its love for the written word that I couldn't resist.
In the end I restricted myself to a single novel but I'll definitely be back. The chief pleasure of secondhand bookstores is never knowing what treasure you'll stumble across and the fun comes from searching as much it does finding.
