I should have loved The Last Bookstore. The independent store in downtown Los Angeles sells books, takes donated books, and exhibits art. It has sculptures made from unusable donated books. It should be my cup of tea. I hated it.
It was a dark and gloomy day, inside the store. It was bright and breezy outside, but 100 percent Goth once you got in the door. Like the book-loving librarian I am, I began to cruise the shelves. It had sofas and chairs, where you could enjoy your literature in comfort. And a big honking sign. “THIS IS NOT A PUBLIC LIBRARY.” Therefore, one should strictly limit one’s time upon the furniture, was the finer print.
It was the 21st century edgy thing going on.





