The local public library is purging a lot of books from their shelves, which on the one hand is a good thing. We passed a ballot measure in Mendocino County and are all sweating a little more blood in our sales tax to fund the purchase of new books and more staff, which is to be applauded. But the books that have been culled are distressing to see.
A few of the freebies came home with me, among them a beautiful hardcover collection of Mexican retablos and ex votos, religious artworks painted on tin. Also a collection of artist Candy Jernigan's art, which is itself a series of collections. I'm delighted to have these things in my home, but it's sad to think they're not available to the public. That's the least of my sorrows, though.
An overwhelming quantity of books about opera, poetry, ballet, and theater bit the dust. Surely I didn't help the cause, what with my failing to read the collected letters of Arturo Toscanini while I had the chance, but I hate the thought that these things are no longer going to be around for perusal. How am I going to unlearn all the things I incorrectly learned watching "Black Swan" if our dance section is wiped out. (Actually, I only learned one thing from that movie and it confirmed a preexisting suspicion; I think Mila Kunis might be a figment of my imagination). Still. Sad to see, and I worry that it will all be replaced with ever more James Patterson novels until we're all choking on Alex Cross sequels. Give me bread, sure, but can't a person get a few roses up in here? Final word: Blurg. That is all.