The Art of War

In addition to running a few birthday-related errands yesterday, Sarah and I checked out Ukazoo, a used bookstore in Towson. It's the nicest, most spatially appealing of its kind. Best of all, they serve local coffee gratis, and provide liberal cushy seating. I didn't have a specific purchase in mind when we went. In fact, I didn't even know about the store before Sarah mentioned it. After ambling around aimlessly, I thought of a book that's always on the periphery of my list of those to read "sometime." I looked in what would seem to be the obvious places, but came up empty. The store's computer indicated they had it, but I found myself frustrated when I went to the places (more than one, yes) I should have been able to find at least one of a few versions of it.

In the middle of my search, Sarah called me over to where she was to have a consultation. After giving her my opinion on a few of her titles, I walked off, and tripped on an irregularity in the carpet. My coffee sloshed, and I lurched forward so that I was eye level with Sun Tzu's The Art of War.

I had also hoped to pick up some of the early Tess Monaghan novels, but there weren't any. There were hardbacks of a few of Laura Lippman's novels—some Tess and some stand alone--that I had already read, though. In addition to Sun Tzu, I left with Baltimore Noir (gritty, seamy underbelly stories that take place in the city of sometimes questionable charm), edited by Lippman, The Complete Kama Sutra, and a girl detective story, because I am a sucker for those.