A Few Words On/From the Barnes & Noble at the Grove
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Hello Sternal Journalists,
Reporting from the field today. I’m sitting in a (warm) chair on the second floor of the Barnes & Noble at the Grove. My view is roughly this:
I fucking love a Barnes & Noble. I’m an optimist and an idealist in a lot of ways. I think most people who know me know this, but some people who know me only in certain realms or for certain times might be surprised.
I have definitely been a loud and active evangelizer of the Church of Everything’s Fucked at times. Plus I’d admit that I’m not not good at analyzing and pointing out all the ways in which things that are bad may never get better. But I really only try to utilize those skills when they feel necessary to jostle people out of a false sense of security.
Maybe it’s my ripe, fresh(ish) 34-ness softening me, but shouting about how the sky is falling even if it is falling feels more blustery and less anti-falling-sky-retrofitting-effective than it used to.
Which is all to say that, most of the time, my optimism and my cynicism have to have a little conversation and decide which one of them needs to shut the fuck up and go away for a second.
But every now and then, they—my optimism and my cynicism—bump into each other and just get to hold hands and stroll around and ask how the other is doing. The place this happens the most? Barnes & Noble at the Grove.
Yes, of course The Grove is a very bougie and tourist-trappy mall owned by the LA mayoral candidate who I will be voting against in the coming election.
And of course I love independent bookstores. I went to one in Chicago once whose inviting basement I got so lost in that I would have near definitely been a goner if there had been a hint of a natural disaster. I was in one in London a couple weeks ago with a proprietor whose Italian accent was so thick you forgave its condescension.
Sure, if I had to choose between independent bookstores and Barnes & Noble, I’d begrudgingly choose independent bookstores. Because I know they’re more important, culturally, literarily, and evolutionarily.
But I would be electing to lose: the chance to revisit my memories of traipsing around downtowns Bethesda and Rockville with my friends when we were old enough to be on our own but not yet exploring the thrilling repetitions of alcohol and other vices. And the three times I went to Harry Potter midnight releases (midnight! at a bookstore!);
and the only place I ever knew how to shop for everyone I loved in under thirty minutes (never quite learned to do that in any other way unfortunately. Sorry, everyone I loved);
and and the only place where holy shit zoom and enhance Omarion is doing a BOOKSIGNING TODAY???
(the Hogwarts flags are there year-round by the way!)
So wow. I’m glad Barnes & Noble is a place I can relax while my optimism and cynicism have a rare moment of synergy. And I’m glad Amazon exists so I can drink a Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte on the roof cafe of this particular mega-chain and sort of feel like I’m supporting the little guy.
I guess what I’m saying this week is fight the good fights you can find, but don’t be so hard on yourself if you’re moved to stop and enjoy a hyper capitalist mega chain for a sec.
Recommendations.
Bullet Train. Movie. SternJourn favorite Chris Milliken and I saw this Brad Pitt et al film last week and it was a fun ride. Didn’t quite live up to my expectations of David Leitch (the John Wick director), but it was still fun. Great action, snappy Guy Ritchie-esque moments. You just never quite forgot you were sitting on a train the whole time. If that’s what you’re into, you’ll love it.
See How They Run. Movie. But Chris and I saw this one this week and both thoroughly enjoyed. Well-acted 1950’s whodunit loosely inspired by the work of Agathe Christie. I saw some write-ups call it a parody, but felt more like a zany homage to me. Good times, great actors, give it a watch if you’re dying to see that next Knives Out movie.
Kitchen Confidential. Book. I picked this up during my Barnes & Noble excursion (which was actually on Thursday but I did write most of this there then!) and have been devouring it. I’m way late to the party on this, but in case you’ve been looking for a nudge, or perhaps are waiting for something to sate the The Bear-sized hole in your television heart, check it out.
Bobby Fischer Teaches Chess. Book. Picked this up too. One of the many friends I made in Scotland was a journalist named Stuart Kenny who just published a piece in the Guardian, “My Online Chess Addiction Was Ruining My Life.” While my addiction to the Chess.com app wasn't quite as egregious as his, I felt like I could use some time away from it and thought I’d see whether a book might scratch the same itch. It absolutely does, and I feel like I’m making leaps and bounds compared to the guesswork I was doing in 3 minute games with random people from around the world. Can’t wait to finish it and return to decimate the random people from around the world (joking (mostly!)).
Alright, that’s all for now!
Love!
Julian!
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