morrigirl | A Very Literary Girl (Reply)

I've always been a book addict, I've just never had a steady income with which to indulge the habit. Now that I do I'm shelling out money to Barnes and Noble almost every day of the week. I've begun keeping a stack of books I plan to read by my bed. In theory, the stack should be shrinking in direct relation to the number of books I buy because why buy new books when you already have a stack of ones to read by your bed right? A logical, non-addicted person would finish off several books in the stack before adding more. Not I. There is a perverse sense of satisfaction in watching that "to read" stack grow to teetering heights. Just watching it grow makes me happy. Seeing books strewn haphazardly around my bed makes me feel more intellectual then I actually am.

And why do I bring this up? Because I went on a book run last night and came away with three new books by three authors whom I haven't read in a very long time :-D I bought "The Woman Who Gave Birth to Rabbits" by Emma Donoghue, "Notice" by Heather Lewis, and "The Night Country" by Stewart O'Nan. I read Heather Lewis's first novel "House Rules" while in high school and enjoyed it quite a bit. Kind of like "Catcher in the Rye" but with horses. In the late 90's she wrote a murder mystery which I wasn't interested in reading at the time, and then...nothing. Silence. She didn't write anything else. So I stopped looking. Then low and behold, a few weeks ago I was browsing the stacks at B&N and came across her latest novel "Notice." After reading the back cover I realized why she hadn't written any new books in so long. She was dead. She committed suicide a few years ago. "Notice" was published posthumously.

Similar thing happened with Emma Donoghue except she's not dead. I was first introduced to her while working at Out Magazine my junior year of high school. One day the editorial staff asked me to clean out their overflowing file cabinets full of books and CDs they'd reviewed. In one of them was a galley of "Kissing the Witch," Ms. Donoghues collection of intertwining feminist fairy tale retellings. It was a beautiful book. I read it in...1997? Two years before it found its way onto bookstore shelves, so I was ready for her next novel before the first one even came out. So, just as i had with Heather Lewis, I quit looking out for new material by her. Then last night while browsing the discount book section I came across a hardcover copy of "The Woman Who Gave Birth to Rabbits," a book I didn't even know existed, for five bucks.

And Stewart O'Nan, well he is a very renowned and industrious author. He's written tons of books, just none that I've wbeen interested in reading since "Snow Angels," and "The Speed Queen." But "The Night Countr" looked cool. I like the way he deals with death and violence so I stick to those novels of his that revolve around murder. He always pays attention to the emotional toll a death takes on those left behind and I really like that. It's a subject that makes me perk up my ears.

So I've added these new books to my stack. They are the first new fiction I've bought in a while. I rarely find new fiction books that really interest me. it seems like every author on earth is writing about one of three things: sex and romance, family relationships, and death. Every fucking novel I come across revolves around at least one of those topics and it's boring. Sex and romance? *rolls eyes* I don't need to read about anyones fictitious exploits I have enough real ones of my own thank you very much! Familial relations? C'mon folks, how many different ways are there to reconnect with a distant father? Death? Already written to death (no pun intended). An utterly useless topic unless one plans to attack it in a new and original light which no one besides Stewart O'Nan seems capable of doing. So, rather then look for new authors to devour I stick to authors I know and like, year after year praying they'll hurry up and write something new.

And its a sad day when one of those tried and true authors fails me. Take Maggie Estep for example. I loved "Diary of an Emotional Idiot," thought "Soft Maniacs" was so-so, and thought "Hex" was bloody awful! She has totally stopped writing poetry and is focusing on a series of mystery books featuring the oh so bland main character from "Hex," the second of which "Gargantuan" is due out...soon. But I can't bring myself to buy it. As much as I want to support her, as much as I love her older work, I refuse to read something I can almost guarentee I'll hate. I'm the same way with music. I just have a list of artists I've liked since I was 12, and I continually buy their albums. When they all die or retire I'm gonna be fucked.

Everyone tells me I should read "House of Leaves" but...I dunno. I've flipped through it a few times. It looks hard to follow, the layout is funky, and I've never been a fan of experimental fiction. That and it's 24 bucks in soft cover!!! Andrew was suppose to lend me his copy of "Fray" when we had lunch Thursday. He remembered to bring it but I forgot to take it from him before we parted ways. Now THAT looks awesome!!! Post apocolyptic slayer of the future!!! A must read for any true Buffy fan.

And for my final display of nerdocity (in this entry) allow me to confess that I am now hopelessly addicted to Kingdom of Loathing (thanks