While driving between two of my local bookstores to pre-sign copies of my forthcoming memoir (in L.A., "local" meaning an hour apart), I was struck by the fact that while I’ve had many loves in my life (film, little league baseball, my wife), my oldest romance is with the smell of a new book.
The first of the many notable bookstores that touched my life was the flagship Kroch’s & Brentano’s in downtown Chicago, where at six years old I’d let go of my mother’s hand and wander among the towering shelves. At eight, I would ride my bike 10 blocks to the little Bookstall at Chestnut Court in Winnetka, two dollars in my pocket and hell-bent on finding the latest James Bond paperback. Once, I was so excited to dig in that I began reading on the way home and crashed my bike into a parked car.
Read Full Article »