It's one of my favorite places: The Left Bank Book Store on West 4th Street. It's just a single room, bursting with character, and I would imagine boosting that it has one of the finest collections of first editions of any book store in New York City.
A few weeks ago, I lingered in the crowded bookstore, talking to two men who looked very familiar and spoke with an air that suggested I should know who they were. I barged into their conversation because one of the men said to the other that he had just seen "Mary Louise" on stage. Since Dollhouse (at the Roundabout) had gotten rotten reviews, and I was dreading going, a very sweet Valentine's Day treat from a friend that had suddenly become what the French call "a poisoned gift," I sought reassurance that this would not be the worse theatrical experience of my lifetime. "How was it?" I insisted upon knowing. The one gentleman said, "she's always worth seeing," of Mary Louise Parker and the three of us had a conversation about how the final lines of the Ibsen had been mistranslated, though I was merely listening to their opinions, my Norwegian being a little rusty, and could only add that this was the most poorly reviewed play by the New York Times that I had EVER read (and I had read a lot of Frank Rich's reviews in his day.)
Well, it being a very small bookstore, and my two new friends being quite erudite and interesting, I proceeded to speak to them for quite a while, wanted to barge in again as one bought Sackville-West, and then rather awkwardly apologized for having interrupted so rudely. The other gentleman, the epitome of British politeness, encouraged me to join their conversation - if I so desired - they were charming, completely wonderful conversationists.
We said our good-byes. And just as I went right out of this gem of a store, and they went left, I realized that I had been speaking with Mike Nicols and Tom Stoppard. Just one of those average New York early afternoons, after a breakfast meeting at Cafe Cluny (another recent favorite - for the large picture windows, that take people-watching to a cinematic level; one seriously feels as if one is watching a big screen.) I started to remember all the things I could about Nichols and Stoppard's friendship, how it started in and around The Real Thing which I saw on Broadway in 1981 (when I was six years old) and how Nichols was largely responsible for getting Stoppard to rewrite bits.
Today .... I stopped into my favorite bookstore. I mentioned how thrilled I was to see these two luminaries a few weeks ago. The proprietor - very good natured and fun - played a game with me. He told me .... if I could name the unlikely "movie celebrity" who bought the most books from him, he would give me any book in his bookstore. He would give me three questions to narrow down the field, and he would give me two guesses. I eyed Colette's first edition of Claudine at School (my first film company being called Claudine Makes Movies), and took the plunge .... he even gave me additional clues along the way. As I had exhausted all questions, he gave me one last very big clue, suggesting that he might have to narrow my selection in the store if I won. I told him that I couldn't accept a book from him anyway, it was too gracious, and he insisted, no I would have to take a book if I guessed correctly ..... alas, Stephen Baldwin was not the right answer.
Questions: Is the person older than 35? (In his 30s - a clue! It's a "he.") Is the person married to a celebrity?(No.) Has the person been in a major hit within the last year? (Yes, but the person is not a huge movie star, but he has been in one big movie.)
Clue: The person has a brother who is a bigger star than he is ....
Submit your guesses. And if you get it right, I'll buy you a coffee at Café Cluny (Bank and West 4th) and we can watch the cinematic people go by ......
