Book Orgy

Whee!

Mamma Sauce gave me a Borders giftcard for the holidays. This is like giving a crack addict a gift certificate to his dealer. I've been relatively well behaved in recent months, trying not to spend money on things like books, when I need sweaters and warm clothing. Tonight, all bets were off.

I was remarkably restrained, however, because I did decide to wait for the new Joe Queenan and PJ O'Rourke books to come out in paperback, or hit costco.

The literary (ish) goodness I hauled home:

The Children's Blizzard by David Laskin- Looks very interesting, saw it on the Borders website. It's about a freak blizzard that took place in 1888, the day started out as unseasonably warm, and by nightfall it had killed more than 100 children who were trying to get home from school. Plenty of family histories in there, and it sounds quite perfect.

Strange Wine by Harlan Ellison- I am an Ellison junkie. I shall not repent. I loathe most science fiction, but darn near worship the literary ground Ellison walks on. His essays and nonfiction are some of the best in existence. This is a reissue, and I can't wait to dig in!

Fluke by Christopher Moore- I loved Bloodsucking Fiends, and Coyote Blue back in the day, and then stopped reading Moore. I was brought back into the fold with Lamb, and Fluke should be no exception. Also, Mr. Moore is a very polite, personable writer, who actually did respond when emailed by a very dorky fan, way back in the day. Fluke's all about a a man, and his whale, and a cryptic painted "Bite Me" written on said whale's fluke. Ah... haven't we all lived that story?

Fierce Pajamas A New Yorker Anthology- The worst thing about not working for the Former Benevolent Dictator? I can't steal her copies of the New Yorker from the mailbox before she got to them. (She never read them anyway)This one wasn't a difficult purchase- hmm.. funny stuff. From the New Yorker. Yehah!

Best American Essays 2004 and Best American Short Stories 2004 by everyone and anyone- I love these collections, they make the ultimate bedtime reading. I can read a story or two before nodding off, and life is good. I was tempted to pick up the Best Non-Required Reading, but Dave Eggers seriously pisses me off. (And yes, I wish I was around when he spoke for the Little Nonprofit That Could (make you want to die) because I would have told him I loved him at Might, but You Shall Know Our Velocity is the first book I ever wanted to hurl at a wall, run through a shredder, boil in acid, and possibly dump into a volcano. This is, of course, to say nothing of A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Suckitude. You think I'd learn.) Where was I? Oh. Essays. Short Stories. Good deal AND they're buy one, get one 1/2 off.

Magazines... I can't go into Borders without picking up the new issues of Bitch and Bust. For the feminist in me. Sometimes they make me giggle, because they do take themselves soooooooooooooooooo seriously, and get really wrapped up in ways that the testicular-americans try to keep ovarian-americans down (often finding things that don't exist) but they're a hell of a lot more relevant than Ms. is. (Or was, as I haven't read it in about 3 years because it wasn't angry enough.)

I also snagged the New Yorker because it's the winter fic issue. Believe it or not, I really did miss the New Yorker down in the wilds of Florida. Our lone, shitty bookstore rarely got issues. Don't move there unless you've got a subscription. Seriously.

Ahh... These lovely little packages should keep me occupied for a little while. Books. Glorious, wonderful, brand-new books. Is it really wrong that I want to put them all on my bed and roll around naked on them?

Is it really wrong that I've just told you that?

Um. Nevermind that last thing... about the rolling.