As I end this trip in Portland, the first obvious stop had to be Powell’s, the “city of books”. It keeps its promise of gigantism, complete with a colored-and-numbered coded map to its 3500 sections on four levels of an entire city block. I find the biggest French used book section I have seen so far, with four books by Michel Tournier whose Midnight Love Feast is still eluding me. In the English-language literature, I do not find a single novel by Tournier… but there is an (obscure) study of one of his  early works.

I ask help for my other quest (a book about manga). First stop, the manga section, where the help is minimal. Second stop, the foreign-language books. At that nearby desk, my question is met with a querying look, followed by a quick rattle of suggestions (numbered and color coded) that send me to the Japanese history section (where I find an outdated book about Japanese pop culture, and a recent work about Japanese hip-hop, but nothing about mangas); to the art section (nope); the Japanese literature section (nope); the cartooning section (dozens of “how to books”, but none about the genre itself).
No matter: this little expedition led me to a few treasures. I leave Powell’s with a surprising little book by Dominique Fernandez, that will turn out to be the perfect accompaniment, the next day, to my delicious French-Italian meal. Now there’s a thought: pairing books with meals (and that bookmark is the Powell’s “Weird Reads” list  – more on than at a later date.)

Next, I decide to check the nearby Floating Word Comics, which seems to have a promising name for my book-about-manga quest. And I get real help, from clearly knowledgeable people… but no results. Later, I check Books with Pictures, a much smaller venue in East Portland which has a solid collection of mangas, small-press publications, a feminist viewpoint… and a discount for readers who bike to the store. Portlandia, anyone? Oh, and speaking of that, I did not check In Other Words: they were closed. While in East Portland, I stop by two more bookstores.
The first, Longfellow, is well represented by the Alice in Wonderland mural on its façade. When I step inside, I am joyfully greeted by a man hard at work, typing away. The place is both warm and chaotic. Piles of box look like they could have been there for many, many years.  Sections are a bit haphazardly organised, but each is packed with fascinating works – including one by Michel Tournier, Friday, but not the one I am looking for, Midnight Love Feast.

My last stop has an intriguing name – Mother Foucault’s Bookstore. In what appears clearly as a neighborhood in transition (the obligatory tattoo parlor, designer/craft store, pubs/breweries, construction sites …), the bookstore is a small wonder. Its windows are lined with classics in various languages. Inside, the well-stocked philosophy section is filled with books in many languages, including Foucault in French, of course. It faces a piano, and a small stage for readings. The literature section shows a carefully thought-out selection, amongst which several books by Tournier, both in English and in French (still no Midnight Love Feast, but, this time, a bookstore owner who knows what I am talking about!). I could have spent hours exploring those shelves, but this is Monday, and “On Sundays and Mondays, we take it easy”, says the owner, so the store closes early. Probably just as well, because the place seems so welcoming I might have just stayed, and  could have found enough interesting books to require an extra suitcase.