Daniel Sevitt wrote:
"Doesn't have to be first-hand but it should be something you
were looking for and would probably have paid more
for."
So I'm travelling through Spain with a backpack and three
novels: Faulkner's Sanctuary, Hemmingway's Death in the
Afternoon, and Willeford's The Way We Die Now. By the time I
get to Barcelona, I am just finishing Willeford's final Hoke
Moseley. I am desperate for any reading, especially any HB. I
find out there's only one English-language used book store in
all of Barcelona. It happens to be by Gaudi's Park Guell, so
I drop by before a visit. Down an alley, the store is hidden
from the traffic of a main commercial street. An older and
amiable woman with a British accent is the proprietor. After
going through the paperbacks and not finding anything of
interest, I start scanning a shelf of mostly "yuppie" trades.
A book I've kept an eye out for jumps out at me: Willeford's
Kiss Your Ass Goodbye. And it's only 700 ptas. I finished it
in one sitting that night in my cramped room with two German
lovers loudly fucking in the room beside me.
Chong
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