[Subtitled: Don’t judge me!] I don’t think anyone is surprised, but man, this has to be a record. A little over a week ago, I proposed to limit myself for one book a month. Turns out, I can’t do it. Huh. Moving on:
- Suite Française, by Iréne Némirovsky. I blame the blogosphere for this one. I’m reading this very very soon.
- Mythology, by Edith Hamilton. This book was my life when I was in my early teens. Sadly, I lent my yellowing paperback to a friend’s boyfriend. I didn’t like him much. He never gave it back. The follies of youth!
- Ethan Frome and Selected Stories, by Edith Wharton. I am skittish around my mother’s copies of Wharton’s novels, but I’ve always wanted to read her, and so why not read her in my favorite form?
- The Dogs of Babel, by Carolyn Parkhurst. I hid this at the shadowy-est corner of the bookstore, to give me time to research the novel. [Ooh, I made an informed decision.] It’s all good.
- Last Steps: The Last Writings of Leo Tolstoy. My first Tolstoy! I just read excerpts from his What is Art? and loved it. I’m posting my thoughts here for my stop for the Classics Circuit. He makes me say, “Hell, yeah!” [I’ve read two others, though, and they’re a tad moralistic. But I read on.]
- Water for Elephants, by Sara Gruen. I have always sort-of-wanted to read this. But it was the threat of having the cover art replaced by pictures of Robert Pattinson [there’s a movie coming, I heard] was what finally made me get a copy.
- Cecilia, by Linda Ferri. Ah, Ancient Rome. Yeah, you know as well as I do that I got this because it was published by Europa Editions. I loved The Elegance of the Hedgehog, and Europas are rather difficult to find in these parts.
- The Architecture of Happiness, by Alain de Botton. Clickie for navel-gazing on a different kind of book-love..
- The Journal of Joyce Carol Oates: 1973-1982. Shall be “Currently Reading” until I’m not, I guess. Loving it so far. Which is funny, because I haven’t read much of Oates. Which is funny, because I now have six of her books, though granted that’s a teensy part of her ridiculously large backlist.
- Yes, that’s the 2010 Swimsuit Edition of Sports Illustrated.
- And I bought romance novels, my first couple after a long-ass time. I hadn’t realized how much I missed the genre until, well, until I was looking at a big stack of them over at BookSale. All historicals, in one way or another: The Perfect Wife by Victoria Alexander; Tumbling Through Time by Gwyn Cready; To Catch a Highlander by Karen Hawkins.
Maybe next time, I won’t resolve to not buy books. I’ll just let it happen. After all, I’ll be unemployed by the end of this month. Puff. Any thoughts? On the books, and not the fact that I actually believed I could stop myself from getting more books?