Went to the National Book Festival on Saturday. It’s a lot of fun, with tons of books and readings and gobs of great swag. Aaron and K were even in the program this year (from getting their picture taken last year, not like in the author bios or anything).
But we totally missed out on seeing Jan Brett, because stupid Laura Bush took over the children’s tent, and of course she’s way too special to have to conform to the schedule, and her stupid security line was so backed up that there was no hope. (Memo to whoever set up the “security” there - it’s a freakin’ tent! Not even the kind with view-obscuring walls! If I’d wanted to assassinate the first lady, I would have skipped the line and just shot her from one of the sides. Would have saved everyone a lot of trouble.)
But we did get to hear Susan Meddaugh read Perfectly Martha, which was good enough for K. And we got to do crafts, and went through the Magic Schoolbus, and hugged Clifford, and I got to see Neil Gaiman (and so did K, and she actually cared once I reminded her that he was the guy who wrote The Day I Swapped My Dad for Two Goldfish), and that’s not too bad.
(Neil Gaiman was, of course, fantastic. If I’d brought my copy of Good Omens last year, Terry Pratchett could have signed it, and this year I could have gotten Neil Gaiman to sign it, and how awsome would that have been? (Well, not that awsome, because it’s just a signed book, it really doesn’t mean anything, but it’d still be kinda cool.))
Last year was better, as far as authors we all wanted to see, but this year had more kids’ stuff, so I declare it a draw and look forward to next year.
