Sort of a Vacation…

We will be CLOSED on Mon. 7/21, Tues. 7/22, & Thurs. 7/24
BUT the store will be OPENED by a substitute on Wed 7/23 (11-5) & Fri 7/25 (12-6).
Wanna guess where we’ll be?
Here’s a picture of us next week:


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July Hours



We will be OPEN 4th of July, until we ain’t.
We will be CLOSED on Monday 7/7 & Tuesday 7/8 in order to accommodate a nice film crew.
We will be OPEN all weekend if you need anything. 
Like a book. Peanuts. Fistfight.

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Book Signing with Eric Warren & Frank Parrello
Saturday, May 10th @ 6:00 P.M.

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Free Reading Friday Night 4/25 @ 7:00
READ Books & The Women Group Present:
SLUT CHURCH by Emma Koffroth


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Break Time!



READ Books will be taking a rare day off on Monday, January 6th. Our vacation shall conclude at midnight of the same day. We’ll be back on the 7th.

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Book Club

Robertson Davies’ Fifth Business is READ Books current Book Club selection. Canadian literature! We will meet in January to discuss the book and eat Canadian food, whatever that might be. Let us know if you want in. 5th

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Book Club Update

Next Book Club Meeting is scheduled for the evening of Saturday, October 26th. We are currently reading Victor Villasenor’s tasty sounding Burro Genius. If you would like to discuss this book while eating Mexican food, all you got to do is ask. En Espanolburro.

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Eagle Rock Music Fest @ READ Books

READ Books & TOROS Pottery



Saturday, October 5th 2013


“The Dan Clucas Quartet”

Free Live Jazz Music


Why pay to get smushed on Colorado Blvd., when you can move about with liberty on Eagle Rock Blvd?
Free live Jazz in the spirit of Ornette Coleman, John Coltrane, and all those other good guys!
READ Books
4972 Eagle Rock Blvd.
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Book Club

Our next Book Club meeting will be held on Saturday, Sept. 28th at 6:30. We will discuss Joy Luck Club, eat Chinese food, and select a new book. All are welcome. Meal is potluck.The-Chinese-Feast

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Bookstore Diary Part II: The Unexpurgated Journals


Educational Programming

    I sort of want to be a positive force in this here universe, to evolve spiritually and culturally and whatnot. I try to abstain from partaking in life’s trifling activities such as hot cheetos and television watching, but sometimes one turns on a TV in search of an educational program—say a decent boxing match or a Jeopardy rerun that makes my uppity kids think that their dad is smart—and one becomes cleaved to an ineluctable gawking fest. Likewise I go to work each day with big plans involving literature and capitalism, but find myself stupidly contemplating the scene through my front window. There’s a payphone across the street that attracts a troupe of characters resembling a local casting call for The Wire, sans the cops. A guy is talking on the payphone, then another fella walks up to the first guy, and then a third character pulls up in a car which picks up fella #2, and so on.

Last week one of the characters seemed to mess up his stage blocking and performed a beeline straight across the street towards me and my books. He was a burly white fella in his late-50’s carrying a backpack on his hip. Had he seen me gawking? Taken offense? Though his facial expression was benign when he opened my door, he was most definitely performing the perp entrance: look over the shoulder to see who saw you entering, look to the rear of the room to see if other exits exist, and search the aisles for witnesses. He looked like he’d spent the bulk of his twilight years lifting heavy weights and tattooing his neck. More so than your average old guy. “Hey. Do you buy stuff?” was his inchoate query.

“Some stuff,” I answered agreeably, quickly adding, “But I am a vegetarian.”

He opened his backpack and revealed a thing. It looked like a ruler got together with a trombone slide and gave birth to the contraption that this guy was trying to hand to me. “I don’t know what that is,” I admitted, physically retracting from his odd offering.

“It’s a slim jim,” said he.

I leaned in. “What, like one of those damn beef sticks?”

“No,” he said. “It’s for breaking in…” he paused to reconsider his phrasing.     “Tow truck drivers use ‘em to open car doors when you get accidentally locked out of your car,” he elaborated with the utmost professionalism.

I held my arms up and motioned to the environs, all them books, as I asserted:  “A tow truck driver I am not.”

“Well,” he continued with impressive patience, “maybe you got yourself a car somewhere that got accidentally locked, see?” He shrugged, like, who the hell knows, right?

“You know,” I spoke with decisive intent, “the only thing I’m buying today is books.”

His eyes narrowed speculatively. “Books?” he said. What with all the peeping around upon entering the store, you’d think maybe he’d noticed the shelves of books. Perhaps, I thought, his poor observational skills were somehow connected to all that time he’d been allotted for weight lifting and neck tattooing.

“Okay I hear you,” he said cheerfully. “Books, huh? Okay! I can get some of those you bet. Gimme a day or two…” He started toward the door with backpack in hand and slim jim on my desk.

“Hold on there,” I said, picking up his indubitable tool. “You’ll be needing this.”

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