Back when I lived in San Francisco, the nice people at Borderlands Books did this super-cool thing where they'd take orders for my books, along with details for personal inscriptions, then get me to sign them when I dropped round the store, and ship them for free within the US (and for a modest fee elsewhere).
Of course, that became a lot less practical last winter, when I moved to London. But you've got another chance to get a signed, inscribed book shipped right to your door: I'm swinging briefly through SF in June (and I do mean *briefly* -- sorry, no time to socialize) and I'm gonna stop by Borderlands and sign any stock that they have. If you get your order in before June 15, I'll sign your copy that week and you'll have it before July 1 -- pretty cool!
Borderlands' contact info is
866 Valencia St.
Call or email them with your order and payment details and they'll get you sorted out.
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Doctorow doesn’t undermine this adulation of Disney World with cheap irony. Rather, he presents it entirely on its own terms. The novel itself can’t really be called ironic; instead, it is permeated by a deadpan, slightly creepy sense of effusive sincerity. The characters are all “twittering, Pollyannic” people. They display a sort of dampened affect: a distant, impersonal warmth, unburdened by any hint of anxiety, let alone tragedy. They “can’t help but be friendly”; they have a “look of chirpy helpfulness at their instant disposal.” Sometimes the older folks, who still remember the pre- Bitchun world of scarcity and work, complain that the younger generation lacks fire and passion. But this crit-icism is simply unintelligible to those who have grown up with the Bitchun Society, and spent their entire lives in Disney World.
Paperback ISBN: 076530953X