My Tuesday night habit, before heading to Murphy’s for weekly Quiz Night, is book hunting. Tonight I happened to be browsing at National Book Store Greenbelt, and I thought I’d already scored my bounty — a spanking new trade paperback copy of Savage Detectives by Roberto Bolaño, marked down to from P629 to P150 — so I was headed over the counter when something caught my eye a few tables down.
I swear, it was as if a heavenly beacon was lighting the way for me! I squinted, did a double take, then squealed, dodging two elderly women picking out cookbooks in my haste to get my hands on this:
