The ink twists and bends
1. McIntyre & Moore is closing. A blowout sale is in progress.
Hence I now own L.R. Palmer's The Interpretation of Mycenaean Greek Texts (1963), and Carole Pegg's Mongolian Music, Dance & Oral Narrative (2001) is going out in the mail to
rushthatspeaks on Monday, but all things considered, I'd rather have paid the extra and been able to browse there still in a year. I like used book stores. This particular one is what I do when I'm in Porter Square. (Well, and visit Porter Square Books, but they're new.) I find myself hoping for an eleventh-hour miracle, as with Rodney's in Central Square; I don't like the idea of Cambridge without them. I only learned this afternoon which one of the booksellers is McIntyre and which Moore.
2. This week has been full of opera: tonight's was Maria Padilla at Opera Boston, with Barbara Quintiliani in the title role.
fleurdelis28 said afterward that it was like the anti-Rigoletto—it sets itself up for the same level of love-betrayal, father-daughter meltdown, and somebody's murder or suicide in the final scenes, and then it pulled out a realistically problematic, emotionally plausible happy ending by sheer force of badass at the last minute. I mean, its protagonists will probably spend their honeymoon fighting off French assassins, but these things happen to people. We were very impressed.
3. Talking over the evening with Rush-That-Speaks, I mentioned that I might insist on our going next season to Michael Tippett's The Midsummer Marriage, because as far as I can tell it is one hundred and ten percent mythical crack (the Jungian/Hermetic/Modernist kind. Its top-billed characters are named Mark, Jenifer, King Fisher, and Madame Sosostris). They pointed out that we might not be in town at the time, on account of Rush planning to visit Thrud in Florence and me planning to visit Rush. So like any reasonable person, I replied, "Okay, but we should totally go to the opera if we're not in Italy," at which point Rush threw up their metaphorical-vocal hands and declared this to be the most effetely intellectual conversation in which they had ever taken part. I couldn't really argue. I was drinking tea at the time. We may have taken a level in Mid-Edwardian.
4. Fruity Pebbles is the only flavor BerryLine has produced so far that I have not liked, but I should probably have known better in the first place.
5. And now I should go to bed, because I am going to a baptism tomorrow.
Hence I now own L.R. Palmer's The Interpretation of Mycenaean Greek Texts (1963), and Carole Pegg's Mongolian Music, Dance & Oral Narrative (2001) is going out in the mail to
2. This week has been full of opera: tonight's was Maria Padilla at Opera Boston, with Barbara Quintiliani in the title role.
3. Talking over the evening with Rush-That-Speaks, I mentioned that I might insist on our going next season to Michael Tippett's The Midsummer Marriage, because as far as I can tell it is one hundred and ten percent mythical crack (the Jungian/Hermetic/Modernist kind. Its top-billed characters are named Mark, Jenifer, King Fisher, and Madame Sosostris). They pointed out that we might not be in town at the time, on account of Rush planning to visit Thrud in Florence and me planning to visit Rush. So like any reasonable person, I replied, "Okay, but we should totally go to the opera if we're not in Italy," at which point Rush threw up their metaphorical-vocal hands and declared this to be the most effetely intellectual conversation in which they had ever taken part. I couldn't really argue. I was drinking tea at the time. We may have taken a level in Mid-Edwardian.
4. Fruity Pebbles is the only flavor BerryLine has produced so far that I have not liked, but I should probably have known better in the first place.
5. And now I should go to bed, because I am going to a baptism tomorrow.

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This is sad news. I believe I bought my first book there (no idea what it might be) about thirty-five years ago, when they were near the end of Mt. Auburn St. near its junction with Mass Ave, and the store was mostly below ground (I have no idea when they moved from that location or whether you remember it). The legendary pizza place Bel Canto (still the best I've ever had) was nearby; I miss them, too. (And Elsie's, the best sandwich shop ever, was the other way down Mt. Auburn from Quincy House. It's disturbing to think that today's undergrads will probably have the same regret when they compare today's denuded Square to the 2050 version, assuming it's not all underwater.)
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:D
an intriguing, daunting, entertaining truth
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:(
...On reflection, that does not adequately cover my disapprobation.
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McIntyre & Moore is closing.
Another minor tragedy in a city full of them. I quite liked that store—got a bunch of great biographies and essay collections from there.
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Which seems definitive.
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First Slate's, now McIntyre & Moore--what's the use of living in the Square if it's chained over?
I remember the golden age, when there was a bookstore every few feet, all sui generis.
Neiges d'antan...
Nine
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First there was HMV (the Harvard Square one with the amazing classical music room), then Wordsworth, now this? :( I think I will have to go over to the Brookline Booksmith and hug it in hopes that it can endure.
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