Douglas Bailey (trystero) wrote,
Douglas Bailey
trystero

Bloody hell. I go for one brief walk down the Holy Dog-leg (from Tottenham Court Road station over to Denmark Street for the music stores, down Charing Cross Road for the bookstores, to Cambridge Circus for Orcs Nest, and then up Shaftesbury Avenue to Forbidden Planet), and I come home with twelve books, five gaming supplements, and a new set of guitar strings. Well, at least I meant to buy the strings.  :-)

Of those books: four lovely hardcovers from Gollancz' SF Masterworks line (Alfred Bester's The Stars My Destination, Larry Niven's Ringworld, John Wyndham's The Day of the Triffids and Walter M. Miller Jr.'s A Canticle for Leibowitz); four tiny softcover volumes from Penguin's clever Great Ideas series (Machiavelli's The Prince, Darwin's On Natural Selection, Marx & Engels' The Communist Manifesto, and Thom Paine's Common Sense); one Agatha Christie novel (The Mysterious Affair at Styles, the first-ever Poirot book); and three newish volumes of the great BFI Modern Classics film-criticism series (Nosferatu: Phantom der Nacht, Withnail & I and... yes... Groundhog Day).

At least I can justify three of the gaming supplements on the grounds that they're British, and thus easier/cheaper to find here. (But the other two are from Texas, so... er... yeah.)

Other observations: there are sombre new "grown-up" editions of the first five Discworld books on the shelves (filed under "Fiction and Literature", mind you, not in the SF/Fantasy ghetto). They're actually not as nice inside as the regular UK versions: I'm not tempted. But it's funny to see them anyway, rather like the "adult" versions of the Harry Potter books.

In addition to SF/fantasy books, Forbidden Planet also sells comics, movies, games (a wider selection of US games than I've seen at any US game store), and... I kid you not... inflatable Daleks. I was afraid to look at the packaging any more closely, lest it should mention weight limits or washability or functional orifices or anything of the sort. Eeeegh.

Finally, the theatre: Christian Slater is in London, starring in a stage production of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, which doesn't really seem likely to alter my perception of him as an ersatz Jack Nicholson. And anyway, given my druthers, I'd much prefer to go see Bat Boy: The Musical, which is playing at the Shaftesbury Theatre. *snort*
Tags: london
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