That, when we were browsing in a nearby French chain bookstore, there should be a prominent display table featuring the latest releases in philosophy.
That the local fruiterie offers free delivery, and I wonder what kind of people take advantage of this service, wanting a crate of mango and a case of olive oil delivered up to their fourth floor walk-up. In addition to fruits and vegetables, they have a small selection of coffee and gourmet cheeses (and the aforementioned olive oil). I imagine there is a little old lady who lives around the corner from me who every day phones them up for an apple and a potato, with maybe a bit of Emmenthal on Fridays.
That well over 100 people in the last 48 hours have arrived here via internet search results for "What Russian literary figure do some people believe to be almost as unfortunate as the Baudelaire orphans?" How many unfortunate Russian literary figures are there to choose from? They must be very disappointed that I don't tell them it's Anna Karenina, that slut, but who could blame her, and really the whole incident with the train was very tragic. But Violet, Klaus, and Sunny really have it hard.
That somebody needs to know "where book nerds hang out," though I'm actually rather flattered that this little blog might appear as an answer to them.