The day after Christmas saw the continual closure of my indie bookstore for the holidays (good for them but not so good for me). The Barnes & Noble that I walked by while getting lunch advertises some partial sale. Not so much a liquidation but more than post-Christmas clearance. A little prying affords the news of the store’s imminent closure because they couldn’t reach a new agreement on a lease. My guess is another greedy landlord who won’t budge at a reasonable increase of rent. A scheduled closure in January means the B&N will not replenish their inventory. So I drive another 10 miles to Half Price Books, which is having a store-wide 20% off sale. They’ve got new and used books for a pretty good discount. I stocked up on mysteries, mostly Minette Walters and Elizabeth George, for my travel reading. I also decided on Henry Miller’s Tropics of Cancer, a brand new trade paperback for over half the cover price. I think every book has its time and as intimidating as Tropics of Cancer might be, it’s time has come. Sometimes you just to own up to your fear and bite the bullet. I’m taking it with me to Asia so I can (kinda) have Paris with me.