Ian LeTourneau

…from where I returned today. We had a great stay, landing on Sunday and getting back late this afternoon. We stayed in the middle of downtown and walked around a lot. I must rest blisters on feet now. But first, the list:

I found a great used book store, where I limited myself to 5 books. (Very hard to do. I thought of putting one back but if you buy 5 then you get 20% off, a deal which I couldn’t resist.)

Poems of Akhmatova, translated by Stanley Kunitz.
Field Guide, Robert Hass.
Praise, Robert Haas.
Nights and Days, James Merrill.
Invisible Listeners, Helen Vendler. (Critcism, not poetry.)

Sherry also found a uncollected works of Stevie Smith, with a letter inside the front and back covers written by Stevie Smith. A chatty letter that seems authentic.

Here’s a few I bought new:

Field Marks: The Poetry of Don McKay. Ed. Meira Cook. (Uninspiring selection and introduction.)
Without Title, Geoffrey Hill.
Collected Poems, Donald Justice.

And then, here’s a list of the books I bought at a book warehouse, called the Book Warehouse, full of remainders:

Clasburyon, Mark Abley.
Notes Toward a Family Tree, John Barton.
Drivers at the Short-Time Motel, Eugene Gloria.
The Speed of the Wheel is Up to the Potter, Sandy Shreve.

Each of those cost 99 cents. And the gem, the hidden treasure found in the endless bins of remainders:

Unmarked Doorways, Peter Trower. (Just $5.99)