Powell Books

On a trip to Oregon for work.  Not a fun one.  Think about what I do for a living and make your own guess.

I did manage, however, to spend some time on the first night I landed to walk around Portland.

Jen has told me about Portland's famous book store, Powell's Books.  I took a little visit and here is my review                           

Big warehouse of a building.  I didn't take a good picture of the front but the authors it brings in is interesting.  Augusten Burroughs. Isn't he the guy that lied about his autobiography?  Love Bill Walton.  Hippie basketball legend.  Thomas Frank is some political writer.  I checked the calendar of events and didn't see anyone really famous.  For author events I'm giving it a D.

The building is huge.  Many levels.  All decorated in a fun way.

Although a bit confusing on a first pass, it was fun to discover new, huge rooms.

Lots of recommendations.  From the employees, from award winning lists, etc.

The size of the shelves were intimidating.  But there were many book summaries to draw your attention.  Jen would need hours to look through the shelves.  I would be outside smoking my 11th cigar by the time she got through.

I bought one book.  Muralist, by Barbara Shapiro.  When I told Jen she said 'I exchange emails with Barabara'.  Jen is an author groupie.

Ate my dinner at a sketchy Chinese Food place, along the row of portable food trucks.  I like doing that when I'm here. Cheap, easy, seems like a locale thing to do.

Another day left in Portland before I return home.  Missed Jennie and my anniversary for this trip.

We don't do any big celebrations, but it doesn't feel right not to be home for it.