Had a good time with the D.'s yesterday evening. We left for Cherry Hill at 4:15 and arrived a bit more than an hour later. I hadn't been up in that neck of the woods since daughter Ellen lived in Mount Laurel and boy--if it was a busy, heavily populated place then, it's even more so now.
First, we went to Barnes and Noble to buy the books to be signed by the author, Lisa Scottoline. She's a mystery writer from South Philly of all places; I bought Think Twice simply because the blurb said it featured twins. After you buy, they give you a wrist band with a number so, I suppose, the crowd doesn't mob the author.
Frank, Barb, and I then went to a restaurant called "Panini Something" (well, I can't remember the rest) which features, of course, bread. Had a good light dinner of vegetable soup and half a turkey sandwich, then we went back to B & N. It was early, but there were no seats left when we got there, so we stood the whole time.
Lisa--it's impossible to refer to her more formally--is a trim blonde who looks to be in her early fifties and is very funny. She delivered all kinds of amusing anecdotes about her mother ("Mother Mary") and her two ex-husbands ("Thing 1 and Thing 2"), as well as a number of seemingly intimate details about her life, e.g. a recent blind date. She actually came across much like a stand up comedian. She had brought along two of her five dogs (and she has two cats), which were ooh and aahed over by members of the audience, almost all women. After her gig, she signed books and gave out Tastykakes, which seem to be her trademark Schick.
The last time I had been at an author's lecture was about twenty years ago at a bookstore in Princeton. Don't remember the name of the author, but I was deep into vegetarianism at the time and I know that was his subject. Far from being funny, this one was very, very earnest, intent on promoting his topic and saving the planet from the meat-eaters.
Now, I understand from the D.'s that other author's signings they've attended--and they go to a lot of them--are also barrels of laughs. Maybe this is waxing too philosophical, but could the contrast reflect what seems to be the absolute determination of the public to be entertained with jokes and funny stories rather than think seriously about a topic?
Dunno and now it's time to meet Susan for our walk.