The Word On The Street festival took over the grounds around the provincial capital building today. Is there anything better than walking around a park full of booksellers in tents on a beautiful afternoon?
Well, okay, sure, there are lots of things better than that. But it is a good thing is what I'm getting at.
There was a time years back when one could count on coming home from The Word On The Street with a bag full of free books. Such times are gone, but it's still a really nice way to spend an afternoon. I liked the new park setting, too; previous events were always held along Queen Street, and this new setting made for much more room to stroll and lots of shady spaces to take breaks. Bands played, children chased dogs, merriment was made, and books were celebrated.
I love a crowd that loves books. It was very nice to walk among hundreds, or more probably thousands, of people who dig reading. I must admit I fell in love with every girl I saw—“she's a reader,” I'd think, wistfully, and twang would go the strings of my literature-biased heart. I didn't talk to any of them, but if you were a young lady down at Queen's Park today you should know I love you and I'll always cherish the time we had together.
Call me.
At the festival I met up with Tanya, back from her Actor's Retreat, and we ate yummy Tai food at Green Mango. Funniest moment: me explaining to Tanya that she can't pet every dog she sees, and her exclaiming “But it wants me to pet it” with such certainty that I had to concede the argument.
If I had either the cable for my digital camera or my card reader on hand, I would be posting a photo or two of the event right here. Yes, right here. Instead, I'm going to write this far from interesting paragraph and later swap it for the photos. Aha, such sneakiness. And then, oh yes my dear reader, I will deny this paragraph ever existed. “Paragraph,” I'll ask, arching my eyebrow in a completely innocent manner, “what paragraph?” Oh yes I will, you wait and see.
The only book I bought at the festival was Jim Munroe's latest novel, An Opening Act of Unspeakable Evil. I was very happy to spot Munroe's booth in the park: there's no better way to buy an indie author's book than to fork over the cash person to person. Jim signed the book for me, and added a couple of splashes of blood:
By the way, he also has the best online guide to self-publishing. It covers economics, design, distribution, promotion, you name it. A must-bookmark site for anyone interested in putting out their own books some day.
After the festival I caught a showing of Stephen Fry's directorial debut, Bright Young Things. I think great novels don't make great movies, and this didn't change my mind. But it is worth seeing, especially if you already know the joy of Evelyn Waugh. (In fact, knowledge of Waugh's Vile Bodies is perhaps essential to enjoying the film at all.)
Fry's movie doesn't hold a candle to the one I saw on Friday night, however: Shaun of the Dead is my favorite movie of the year so far, hands down, no competition. I loved the characters, the plot, the lot. And I laughed my ass off. Honestly, right off. I'm having to stand up at the keyboard just to type this.
And that's what I did today, since you asked.
Oh, you didn't?
