I am currently reading The Fortress of Solitude. Matt is something of a librarian to me. He has quite a substantial collection of books, and every time I finish one, I ask his opinion on the next book I should read from his collection. This is a blessing and a curse. Blessing because I always have tons of books at my fingertips, and someone who has great taste to recommend them to me. Curse because I never actually end up buying my own books. So while I have read probably hundreds upon hundreds of novels, I only own about 1-2 single shelves of them. I love books, I wish my apartment was filled from floor to ceiling with them, but I find it hard to cough up the money to buy a book I have already read. There are few books I will read more than once. So it seems unreasonable to purchase a novel I will never end up opening again. It’s silly though, I will purchase knick knacks for my apartment that serve no real purpose other than to decorate my shelves and windowsills. What’s the difference really?
The Fortress of Solitude’s opening is set on Dean St. in Brooklyn. For whatever reason this alleyway brought me there. I could picture this alley being somewhat like Dean St. Filled with children playing with their Spaldeens, and singing songs with subject matter much to mature for their age. A place that may be slum-like in appearance, but is warmed by children’s laughter, and imaginary games.