Plutarch's Lives

There are no Borders between fiction and literature. As far as religion, perhaps it's shelved in romance. Padgett Powell isn't here but Belva Plain is (in mystery, of all places) as is Fern Michaels in multiples.

Plutarch's lonely. Somehow in the rush of things, he's stranded in a far corner of the store, nearer self-help than history..

"The process may seem strange; and yet it is very true. I did not so much gain the knowledge of things by the words, as words by the experience I had of things."

Borders is closing. The big bookstore is selling off everything--books, magazines, shelves, mugs, CD's, popcorn etc etc.

A stranger reads Plutarch in a brown leather
chair. The chair is priced at $100, but if you speak to the manager you might get a deal.