February 9, 2011 Elisabeth Donnelly But the Bookmill is most magical in the heart of winter. If snowflakes aren’t tumbling into the half-frozen rapids, pale sunlight filters through the bare trees and old windows onto the mill’s charactered wood surfaces. The mill has many corners — grab a hot chocolate and find one for yourself. Read, chat or simply listen to the voices in the cafe, the river running under the ice outside and the pages turning all around you. — The LA Times likes the Bookmill, too. (Also, note the use of the word “magical.” Truth.) Mark Vanhoenacker, be my friend!