I didn't make it to the National Book Festival this year, but I did make my first foray up to the Baltimore Book Festival. How is it that I've lived in Maryland for the majority of my life and never been to this event? Couldn't tell you, but I'm glad I finally did.
The Baltimore Book Festival, though held the weekend after the National Book Festival a mere 30 miles away, is a very different event. Authors still speak in tents, but the pool of authors tends to be more local and talks smaller--and therefore more intimate.
In addition to author talks, bookish vendors set up around the Washington Monument (this Washington Monument, not that Washington Monument) and up and down the streets of Mt. Vernon. New books, old books, book-themed t-shirts; literary magazines, flyers for upcoming writing contests; tours of the literary monuments of the city, of the Peabody library; and people, people, people.
|Please, tell me again how no one reads anymore.|
I left with 6 books (most from a used stand, so I spent a whopping $7.50), an Out of Print Gatsby sweatshirt, a slightly sunburnt nose, and a renewed faith in Baltimore's continuing literary tradition.