First an update: one hundred and eighteen . . . people who went to seventeen or more bookstores for Seattle Independent Bookstore Day last week! 118! (Last year it was 42.) !!!.  And that’s only how many people went to all of ’em. No word yet on how many folks went to three or more and entered the drawing for gift certificates, but I’m sure many. 

What’s Making Me Happy This Week: A Books Edition
Being a Short Compendium of Links to Things You Too Might Like

Book Plates of To-Day (To-day = 1902). After all:

An artistic book-plate is the expression in decorative illustration of the proprietor’s tastes, made by an artist who has sympathetically realized the feeling intended. It should objectify one, and only one, salient characteristic, either of temperament, habit, disposition, or pleasure, of its owner. If it does less, it is not individual; if it does more, it is not satisfying.

I’m sure you concur.

Horror book covers by Edward Gorey*.

If you haven’t Ascending Peculiarity: Edward Gorey on Edward Gorey you should.

Ever wondered how Dickens’ punctuation habits compare to Emily Bronte’s? Now you can see.

These so very cool behind-the-scenes photos of collections* at the National Musem of Natural History.

* wild variation from blog post theme

This utterly hilarious “Everything That’s Wrong of Raccoons“* from The Toast. I cannot decide which is my favorite line. Is it, “I can’t be in trustment of a beast that clambers and waddles both; either be graceful and lithe all of times, or be clumsy and relatable on the ground.” Or is it “Don’t disrespect me if you can’t eat me, you false-night-dogs.” Or perhaps, “YOU SCRUBBLEMENT UP YOUR WITCH HANDS AND I DON’T TRUST IT”. Yes, that one. And also everything before and after it.

*continued variation from blog post theme

A beautiful 1692 book* of all the colors.

*back to theme

“Old Strange Book” by Kathleen Ossip

A story is only good if it’s made up

but convinces you it’s true.

Even better if one of the characters

is someone who could be you.

How else do you know who you are?
I once asked an old strange friend:
You only know you’re the person who’s with
the people you love, in the end. […]

It’s not technology, either way.

It’s something

in the brain first, an inkling.