I had heard that Mother and Child was really good and would make me cry, but I wasn’t quite prepared for the emotional bitch-slap it would give me. In a good way. I’m not usually the “emotional cryer” type of theater-goer, but in my defense there were a lot of other audience members sniffling during the screening and they were also red-eyed as they walked out.  So. If you want to see a heart-achingly wonderful crier of a film, push this one to the top of your list! It has several recognizable names and faces and a somewhat twisty storyline that comes together beautifully, even if slightly predictable.

I’ve learned that predictability isn’t necessarily bad—the audience can be sure about what will ultimately happen as long as they’re intrigued about how the story will get there.

Speaking of stories, I realized after I parked at the downtown cinema that my favorite local independent bookseller, Sam Weller’s, was just a block and a half away. The movie had run too long for me to get tickets to the 6pm show I’d wanted to see, but my parking was validated so wandered over to Main Street.

As I waited to cross the street, it occurred to me that it’s been a long time since I’ve walked alone on a city street. Shows how much I get out, I know. But it reminded me of how much I enjoy solitary time in the city—any city—now and then. Don’t get me wrong, I love being with people and exploring cities together. I just really enjoy my heightened level of observation when I’m in a busy place by myself.

And, of course, there’s the wonderful freedom of browsing this huge and eclectic bookstore without worrying about outlasting another person’s patience. I can’t help it. When I’m in a bookstore, museum, etc., I suddenly need to take in everything. Time becomes irrelevant, which (not surprisingly) can cause friction with my companions.

But look at this bookstore. It has three floors that encourage meandering and happily losing yourself in the must-laced recesses of hidden corners. It’s clean and well-organized and completely entrancing. In Utah there are no dust mites, which means that I don’t burst into a sneezing fit like I do in used bookstores elsewhere.

Since I had my camera with me, I requested permission to take photos. The owner, Tony, happened to be at the front register when I asked. He said as long as I didn’t work for Barnes & Noble, Amazon.com, or the like that I was welcome to practice my bookstore-lust photography. I got a couple good ones, but I kept getting distracted by books. Go figure.

The store closed at 7, so a time limit was forced upon me. Boo! Probably for the best. I spent the bulk of my real browsing time in the American and World Folklore section (interestingly, placed right beside the large LDS/Mormon section) and went home with three new used books. I still need to enter those into LibraryThing. Not tonight, though. I have to get up early for the last day of the film festival.