The Waldenbooks in Auburn, one town west of me, is closing, with all their stock being 40% off. Who can resist such a literary bargain? I bought several books I wouldn't've otherwise: Star Trek: The Buried Age; the Justice graphic novel (which I didn't realize is apparently only part one of three?); and Foundation. That last title is particularly exciting, as I've never read any of Isaac Asimov's work other than his robot short stories, and Foundation is a seminal novel I recently identified as missing from my reading background.

But why is this Waldenbooks closing a week from today? The Waldenbooks in Leominster, where I spent many a college hour behind the counter, closed a year ago this month. That leaves very few Waldenbooks left in this county, though a much larger Borders store exists just east of here. But that's a standalone; Waldenbooks are mall stores, and how can a mall be a mall without a bookstore? Are the larger Barnes & Nobles with their Starbucks cafés pushing out the smaller competition? Must every store be a megastore to survive nowadays? Whatever the reason, the lack of choices and availability to our favorite publications is a loss for everyone, not just the store employees.

What little sleep I got on New Year's Eve was found at the North Bridge Inn of Concord, Massachusetts. Their accommodations included a unique literary offering.

On the coffee table in the corner of the room was a small, untitled book. I opened it up to find it was indeed a journal, with the first lined page indicating that I should "Please feel free to share your thoughts." Each page after that was an entry by people who had stayed in this room over the last 15 years. Some comments were succinct, such as "Thank you for your hospitality, Dick and Jane." Others were longer, relating who the people were, why they'd come there, what they were doing. Mormons from Utah were seeking their ancestral roots, celebrating the birthplace of this great nation; a married couple reinvigorated their marriage with an anniversary getaway, despite living only two towns over; a family visited their grandparents for Christmas. It was a fascinating diary of the life of a room.

I added my own page, reflecting on being in this room on the cusp of a new year, looking back at 2007 and forward to 2008. Maybe I'll append that page some day with notes of dreams realized or unfulfilled.

JK Rowling recently produced seven handwritten copies of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, a book of fairy tales referenced in her last novel, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Six were given to close personal friends of the author; the seventh was auctioned. The winning bid came from Amazon.com, which now has on its Web site images and reviews of the book.

The sale has unfortunately received a mixed reaction, as some fans are decrying the limited nature of the book will prevent them from ever reading the complete Harry Potter story. On his blog, Star Trek novelist Dayton Ward offers his an intelligent and well-mannered perspective response. I'll further point out that it's hard to criticize anyone who would invest so much time and energy into a unique product that so few will read; not only has Ms. Rowling forsaken that satisfaction and feedback, she also used the opportunity to raise $4 million for her favorite charity. There's no better gift, especially at this time of year; kudos to Amazon.com for being a significant player in this transaction.

I've recently decided work into my reading schedule some overlooked classics. I often confuse two titles on that list, Discworld and Ringworld, though I suspect the differences will become clear once I've actually finished them.

Some unfortunate news made the distinction all the clearer today: Terry Pratchett has been diagnosed with Alzheimer's. Though the Discworld author is optimistic — "I would just like to draw attention to everyone reading the above that this should be interpreted as 'I am not dead'" — I can't help but remember the slow decline experienced by James Doohan in a similar situation.

I hope to enjoy Mr. Pratchett's books before my appreciation for his wit is posthumous.

Though it's currently on CNN.com, I first saw it some months ago on Fox News: the upcoming film adaptation of the novel The Golden Compass is causing a furor for promoting atheism. Fox's coverage included an interview with one of the hosts of Freethought Radio, the radio show and podcast of the atheistic Freedom From Religion Foundation, which proved to be rather one-sided.

To put this in context: First, Harry Potter was denounced for promoting the wrong religion (witchcraft); now, The Golden Compass is at fault for denouncing all religion. Both are award-winning series of youth literature that have turned millions of youngsters into readers and have sparked the imagination that many parents fear television and video games are suffocating. Yet books that encourage critical thinking are being blacklisted because they're teaching kids how to think, instead of what to think. Such a shame.

Besides, there are several flaws with the argument. The Golden Compass (called The Northern Lights upon its original British publication, and the first in a trilogy) is set in a universe parallel to our own. Although that fantasy world does have its own Bible and creation myth, it's still a work of fiction and cannot be considered analogous to damning our real world's Christianity. And even if the book's assault on its own fictional (and obviously corrupt) religion is to be construed as a promotion of atheism — what of it? Why is that particular philosophy being demonized? No one complained when The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe promoted Christianity. If we are to decry religion in Hollywood, shouldn't we at least be consistent?

I don't care what religion you are, just as it doesn't matter what religion I am. Regardless of our creeds, there should be at least three positive acts we can all agree on: reading, thinking, and imagining. No less a mind than Albert Einstein once wrote: "Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited to all we now know and understand, while imagination embraces the entire world, and all there ever will be to know and understand." So please, let us collectively embrace imagination, in whatever form it takes. The world needs more thinkers, and I lack the hubris to say Einstein would be wrong in this matter.

I was researching effective blogging techniques when I came across this advice: "If you've never visited PostSecret it's one of the few sites on the Internet that is actually worth a damn and does something to change people's lives."

I'd seen a reference to PostSecret a year earlier and had glanced at it but then moved on. This time I took a closer look at the photoblog and was immediately drawn in. The site describes itself simply: "PostSecret is an ongoing community art project where people mail in their secrets anonymously on one side of a homemade postcard." But don't expect the "Having a great time, wish you were here" sort of touristy postcards; these are handcrafted works of art, revealing photographs, unusual and declarative pieces of paper, and more. The image is as important as the text, as are the interplay between the two.

All the cards' elements combine to represent secrets intended to be something never shared with another person — but often they are secrets that their senders have never even admitted to themselves. People have reported dropping their postcard in a mailbox and feeling freed or released from their secrets; others, once seeing their secret manifested, have destroyed the card as a metaphor for no longer being the person carrying that secret. Still others never let their secrets — or their postcards — go. Altogether, it's a sort of anonymous group therapy: whether the secrets are scary, funny, commonplace, or depressing, they are all about humanity — and in that, we all find something to relate to. Though I could empathize with many of the secrets, I was stunned when I found one the text and image which were impossibly unique to me — a secret I've told only two people. To know there's someone else out there who sees him- or herself the same way I do myself made me feel a bit less alone.

PostSecret's founder, Frank Warren, updates his Web site every Sunday with 20 never-before-seen secrets; and once a year, he compiles these and others into a hardcover book. It took only a month of weekly Web site visits before I went to the bookstore to buy the thickest compilation I could find — when I was done with that, I lent it to a friend, then went back to the store to buy myself more.

Last month's release of a fourth collection coincided with Mr. Warren's visit to Boston for a signing at the Harvard Book Store. He preceeded the signing with a 45-minute presentation about the origin and nature of PostSecret. During this talk, he also shared with us many postcards that, for various reasons, he's otherwise unable to distribute. And he took the audience into his confidence when he related the fourth-grade secret that he often attributes PostSecret for revealing and allowing him to overcome.

As he told jokes, took questions, and related stories, I was surprised at how thoroughly Mr. Warren's demeanor defied my expectations. When it finally came time for him to sign my book, I felt a bit silly that I mutely stood there, wanting to engage him in conversation but not wanting to take up his time. Finally I blurted out: "I'm trying to think of something clever or witty to say, but I'm drawing a blank. You've probably heard it all before, anyway. But I gotta say, you're far more optimistic and cheerful than I expected. I bought one of your books that someone else had stuck their secrets into, and I was overwhelmed with the responsibility of what to do with them. And here you are with 200,000 postcards, laughing and smiling."

His response: "If you've lived the kind of life represented in these postcards, then you may be more inclined to see them not as a burden, but as solace."

With a line behind me, I knew the conversation had ended, but I was rooted to the spot as I tried to figure out if his answer made me feel fortunate, or guilty. He gently smiled, said "Thanks for coming," and left me to contemplate more than the secrets in his new hardcover.

It amazes me that everyday users of the Internet have still not caught on to the phenomenon of lolcats. Though having only emerged this past January, they have since spread across the Internet, most popularly found on the site I Can Has Cheezburger? and even being featured in the July 2007 issue of Time magazine. As succinctly stated in Wikipedia, "Lolcats are images combining photographs of a cat with a humorous and idiosyncratic caption." Lolcat captions generally employ phonetic spellings and poor grammar, suggesting the low mental capacity of the featured felines (and perhaps of today's cell phone text messagers).

Though I'm personally a fan of these images, I do think they've gone a bit far, as it's apparently not enough for cats to be cute and funny; they need to be spiritual, too. A full-scale effort is underway to translate to this pidgin English that most popular of texts: the Holy Bible. Observe the Annunciation as the Angel Gabriel proclaims Mary to be the mother of God:

Ceiling Cat sended Gabriel, a hovr d00d, to Nazareth (dat is a citi in Galilee) to a virgn naemd Mary. She wuz engajded to a d00d naemd Joseph. Gabriel wuz liek "O hai Mary, u iz realli nice. Ceiling Cat iz wif u." Mary wuz kiend of worrid about dat. But teh hovr d00d wuz all "Doant be afraid. Ceiling Cat iz happi wif u. U iz gonna hav a kittn. Naem him Jesus. He wil be graet. He wil be teh kittn of Ceiling Cat an his daddi will give him David's chaer. He wil r00l Jacob's house forevr."

… If that just doesn't leave you speechless, I don't know what will. I'm by no means religiously opposed to this project, but it does beg the questions: Why? Who has the time to adapt this material? And can I have some of that time? Certainly my day doesn't have enough hours for my own writing…

(Hat tip to Angela Gunn)

Various news wires are reporting that J. K. Rowling has outed the Harry Potter character Albus Dumbledore as gay.

My response: So what? What's the purpose in her revelation at this point in the franchise's life? Dumbledore has been dead for more than two years, and his sexual preference never proved to be a factor in the role he played at Hogwart's, in Harry's life, or in the fight against Voldemort — all of which are now closed chapters. Is this just Ms. Rowling's attempt at generating more controversy and thus inciting sales now that the summer months of The Deathly Hallows ' release are past? Granted, she's already released other details that were not in the books, but those were substantive. Anything else is immaterial.