South Bank Book Market

I remember hearing about this market some time ago. It's probably my fault, for a multitude of reasons, but it's never lived up to its promise. I wouldn't call myself a bookworm by any stretch, but I love old books. Old and used. And random. I've probably bought a dozen since I came to London, and I've been on a mission of sorts to locate an old, weathered copy of Nine Stories by J.D. Salinger. But, this being London rather than America, Salinger isn't quite as popular (but he's still iconic, to be sure). As usual, I struck out in my search.

I think it may be the market's positioning -- under a bridge and near the water -- that makes me spend little time there. Feeling a good bit colder than some twenty-five meters in either direction, it's difficult to sort through the unorganized litter of used books. But it's still something to behold. Science fiction, the classics, maps, modern fiction, non-fiction, history, etc. They've got it all covered. But still, my own impatience prevents me from sifting through the treasures at hand. Perhaps I'd find that Salinger if I kept my eyes peeled.

Once again, Lauren took some wonderful photos. We even found a bundle of London Walks brochures. We smiled. Good advertising, DT.

The vendors here are a treat as well. Seated near the river, these men and women hold dominion over the market, and their presence is like that of a monarch lurking over a village. As I would inspect books and sift through the rows, I'd always look up to see if I'd caught their attention. Surely they were on the lookout for thieves. But I'm no thief. I may be impatient, but I'm no thief.