Recent Acquisitions

For Christmas last year, H. bought me a really wonderful, thoughtful gift; McSweeney's San Francisco Panaorama. I actually still haven't read some sections of it yet (politics, sports), but I loved the comics and I pored over the literary supplement for weeks. It was exactly the sort of thing I've always wished we got with our newspaper; a thorough, magazine-sized contemplation of books. Besides a really charming interview between Miranda July and James Franco, the piece that most caught my eye was a column dedicated to out-of-print books. The words out-of-print always make my heart sink; whether it's a book or a little-known movie from the 80's (Electric Dreams, anyone?), the idea that something exists but isn't really accesible is a hard one for my mind to grasp. Anyway, this column was dedicated to Edna O'Brien's August is a Wicked Month, a book I'd certainly heard of but hadn't ever thought much about. The author of the piece described finding her copy at a used bookstore on a roadtrip in the midst of a relationship's unraveling. She ended the article by basically saying that if you ever find a copy, you need to buy it.
I immediately went on a hunt. Surely the internet, that great treasure chest, would prove to be my salvation. Not exactly...this book really was hard to find for a reasonable price, unless I wanted the Spanish edition, which was strangely easy to find. Of course B&N was out of the picture, as was my library, which has a long history of having every book/movie in the world except for the one I want at the moment. So for the last six months, I've been searching in vain.
This weekend, H. and I visited a bookstore in his town. It's one of my favorite bookstores because it's run by a charity that helps adults learn to read, or get their G.E.D., or learn English as a second language. All the books are ridiculously cheap, and since they're donations, the store has a pretty weird assortment. All hardcovers are only three dollars, and I've found some relatively new books. I got quite a haul this time, and as we were leaving, H. pointed pointed out a shelf and two boxes marked "FREE." As I idly picked up a copy of The Bell Jar, a purple paperback stuck out beneath it. "Holy shit," I dramatically stage-whispered to H.

I couldn't believe it. After six months spent searching, there it was, free for the taking! This isn't the sexiest cover available, but I'm not about to look a gift free-book-box in the mouth.
What are the sexiest covers, you ask? Well, there's this one. Edna O'Brien is basically the biggest bad-ass.

Then there's this one:

And then there's (eek!) this one:

The cover describes the book as "a fluid, sensual novel, throbbing with the heartbeat of desire." I assume I'll love it. In the usual nature of such things, I'm sure that this book is now available everywhere for a very reasonable price. But if you can't find it, feel free to borrow my copy.

The Cheevs

Well, hey there, who is this fine gentleman?

It's John Cheever, of course!

Yesterday I went to the library's monthly book sale and I scored this Collected Stories for only a dollar. As is usually the case with me, it will be awhile before I get to reading any of the books I bought. My reading list is a mile long. I'm excited about this one, though. I've read a little John Cheever (I have a very distinct memory of staying home in bed one weekend night in college and reading one of his story collections), but I only remember two of his stories really clearly. Those two are, as any good former creative writing major knows, The Swimmer and Goodbye, My Brother.