Adventures of a bookslut, part 1938451345!

Last night, I went to my favourite local indie bookshop (which is also a lovely little restaurant/cafe) for dinner.

I know myself entirely too well at this point to have even pretended that I wouldn’t buy any books while there; but being that I’m attempting to at least cut the bookslutting down to a more manageable level to help with an eventual overseas move, I proclaimed that if I DID buy anything, it ‘wouldn’t be a pile’.

Needless to say, I am a bleeding liar. And I can’t say that I care.

‘Not a pile’, in Jaceyspeak, translates into Just My Type: A Book About Fonts, Jung the Mystic, an edition of Wodehouse’s Young Men in Spats (the cover of which made me laugh out loud, because it is perfect), and an edition of The Great Gatsby.

This after I had reined myself in from buying even more, mind.

Oh, I can defend myself, and point out that they all came from the wonderful remainder tables and so were steals, but I would have wanted these either way. These books are Jacey in a nutshell. ♥

In short, Jung is how I see the world, words are everything to me (and so I have wanted that typography book horribly ever since it first came out), Wodehouse is beyond wonderful, and I just feel wrong without a copy of Gatsby.

Gatsby has given me all sorts of trouble. It is both one of my all-time favourite novels…and one of the ones that I lost in Ye Olde Horrid Move.

With the books I lost, I decided I’d rather not just re-buy the editions I used to have, at first because I still hoped I could get my copies back and then, when I finally had to give that hope up, because they just wouldn’t be the same. I’ve talked about how books themselves carry memories, and so to me, even the idea of ‘replacements’ proper is just wrong. Even if I bought the exact same editions, they still wouldn’t feel like mine, so I’d much rather just pick out different editions where possible and work on attaching new memories to those instead. :)

Unfortunately, I happen to love the painting on the classic Gatsby cover nearly as much as Fitzgerald himself did, so the whole process of ‘picking out a different one’ wasn’t really working for me.

Then I saw this one. It isn’t the same, no, and obviously I don’t like it nearly as much (and it seems as though the edition itself isn’t as sound), but the cover seems to capture the overwhelming sense of illumination that, for me, defines Gatsby more than anything. That’s what I want to look at the book and be reminded of.

So this edition will do, at least for now, and I am much happier to have one again. ♥

And just before all of this, as I was finishing up my shift at another bookstore, I stopped on my way to punch out to randomly make friends with a customer’s chihuahua and successfully sell the customer herself on Good Omens all at the same time, so I daresay it was a productive night.

As for tonight…counting books until four am, or The Adventure Otherwise Known as Inventory! It promises to be every bit as interesting, I daresay.

And in the meantime? Attempting to finish up my reread of The Dark Tower: The Wast Lands before I have to go stay up all night playing with books. :)

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