A really dedicated blogger
would have mentioned this days ago, but I flew last weekend to Minneapolis to see my brother and his family. I believe this is the furthest west I've ever been, or further than I've been in a long time. I'm so not a traveler.
Anyway, I had a great few days: I saw the Mall of America -- which I guess everyone sees when they go -- and we went to this nice little city named Stillwater that seems to have a bookstore on every block, and I hit all of them. I bought William Carter's massive Proust bio -- like the Painter and Tadie opuses aren't already enough -- and a couple more volumes of Henry Roth's Mercy of a Rude Stream, and Flannery O'Connor's letters, and (for $1) Vidal's Washington, D.C. There may have been another book, can't remember. And some sweaters for Diane and Katie. we saw Narnia (pleasureable, but a bit saccharine) and the road show of Les Mis (about as good as the one I saw on Broadway ages ago.)
It was as nice as a trip to a chilly and adamantly anti-smoking state could be, and Tom and Robin just went out of their way for me. A nice vacation with nice folks.
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