a most excellent bookstore somewhere on Broadway, NYC, whose name I can neither remember nor decipher from the shopwindow. A glorious, crammed place! Wallspace and floorspace are colonized with equal vigour: books and DVDs line the slender, precarious staircase that dissects the shop down the middle; books are stuffed into every shelf crevice and occupy every available flat space; strange curios announce a proprietor’s eccentricity (the giant stuffed fish gives it away, really). There is even the occasional, atmospheric cobweb. In short, it has the narrow, musty feel of a shop which, were cosmic laws so inclined, might periodically squeeze slowly inward until it vanishes into another dimension, leaving bewildered patrons to stand outside, blinking in the sunshine and swearing to their friend that they were sure there had been a bookshop here just last week …
Looks to me like Westsider Books.
you’re right!
been there, once, and bought, i think, a carlos castaneda book. the place reminded me a bit of the one in the audrey hepburn film ‘funny face’.