On Writing in Our Age

I spent some time in a used bookstore last week. The Dusty Bookshelf, with stores in Lawrence and Manhattan (Kansas...not that Manhattan), is a wonderful maze of old paper, words, and dreams. The photo on their website doesn't do the store justice. I've never been in the place without books stacked ten to twenty high around the desk.

It's where books go to die (if they are good and lucky). A sort of book Valhalla.

I perused the Horror, Science Fiction, and Fantasy sections, flipped through the ...