This weekend I had incredible luck with books. This started because we got on a plane on Friday afternoon, during the terror alert, which meant that on Thursday night we had to pack with incredible care. Because terrorism or not, I am not going to check a bag. So my entire weekend stuff fit into a small messenger bag. I left behind my laptop, my Palm, my camera and all my toiletries, and I LOVED it. I loved being able to sling my bag all over the plave and not worry about smashing the electronics. But I left my book at home (I had brought my Proust along as far as the door to my house, when it became clear the book was just too heavy to carry; it is still sitting right inside the door where I left it on Friday morning).

So the long and short of it is, we got to the airport three hours ahead, and found the dear old Philly attitude, for once, incredibly reassuring. All this chitchat and drama, it ain't no thing. We went through security in record time. So I faced the idea of sitting in the terminal without a book for two and a half hours. And I actually bought one book at Barbara's Bookstore in the concourse, called "Hitler's Peace," by Philip Kerr, which looked so promising and then, by page 35, the writing was so bad I am actually going to send it back to Penguin. Penguin! I literally could not read it after page 35. This book has blurbs from Time, the NYT, all over, but the writing was just bad. Da Vinci Code bad. K*** R***** bad.

Our first stop when we landed was a Big Lots to get shaving cream, toothpaste, and deodorant, which we couldn't bring on the plane. Next door was one of the fascinating Bargain Books outlets, which sells four shrink-wrapped romance novels for $4. Like a moth to a flame I zoomed over to the fiction wall, starting at W-Z. And the first book I saw: "Ripley Bogle," by Robert McLiam Wilson, which I have wanted to read since the year 2000. For 99 cents! I bought eight books there. That will teach Penguin! For the same price I paid for "Hitler's Peace" I have eight books that will all be better than that piece of junk.

Then the next day, on Martha's Vineyard, I found a copy of "The Mysteries of Pittsburgh" for 25 cents. Not like this book was so hard to find, but I actually had wanted to buy that book at the airport bookstore the day before. But then they didn't have it and my head got turned by the Hitler book.

So now I have NINE books for $14.25. Plus my Palm Pilot, which I am reunited with tonight.