Our Man went deep undercover on Her Majesty's Secret Service into Kanda yesterday to do some recon on the corpse that is the bookselling business. Well, he can report back to GCHQ that the old dear is still twitching. (For those future students of history reading this born Anno Twitteri - think of Kanda as an early version of the iPhone. Bookshops were analog apps and books, of course, were non-audible podcasts).
Anyway, here's what the all-seeing i of his iPhone captured:
A book that used to be on his brother's shelf back in Blighty when Our Man was just His Mother's Infant:
A feminist book that was on his mother' shelf (though, she wouldn't have kept it in the same box as the other titles here. Degraded by Dogs and Replenishing Jennifer were not set texts at gender studies departments back in the '70s)
Our Man shouldn't have spent any of his college days on books like this:
and a lot more on this:
How about a $1,500 picture for Our Woman in Abiko?
Maybe not. Howabout a $450 Hitler etching?
Nein danke. Our Man will just settle for a little light reading instead: