As you may have guessed from that title, I don't mind City Lights bookstore in San Francisco.
Last time I went there I remember feeling intimidated, probably because of all the highbrow arts-PhD-style literature. And the impenetrable beatnik thing which, despite repeated tries, I just can't seem to crack.
But this time, I found an entire subterranean floor of nonfiction. And it was good.
Whatever section you choose to pore over, multiple takes—multiple titles—on that subject are offered. So you can compare before you buy, and find something that really piques your specific interest, rather than making do with something you'll be bored with by page 15. Forget ordering in: it's all here.*
Having written that, I can't believe I just wrote that.
I live near what is supposedly the most "cultural" and "intellectual" city in a first-world country, yet the nonfiction sections in most of the bookstore comprise bestsellers and a few not-actually-bestsellers-but-still-wildly-popular nonfiction titles only. Slim pickings.
Good nonfiction lights the lights of curiosity, and fuels the fires of learning. I posit that Melbourne needs a bookshop that sells nonfiction exclusively. Too much to ask?
*For the record, today's nonfiction purchases included this and this. Excited? Me too!
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