(Besides, of course, a righteous collection of bookmarks.)
Aforementioned: There Once Lived a Woman Who Tried to Kill Her Neighbor's Baby, Ludmilla Petrushevskaya, at McNally Jackson
Prisoner's Dilemma, Richard Powers, at Housing Works Bookstore: Powers' Operation Wandering Soul was probably my first exposure to the intricate possibilities of postmodern plot and prose. (And somehow I didn't get a bookmark here. Weird.)
Jamestown, Matthew Sharpe, at The Strand: A New Hampshire bookseller I know from Twitter (@MissLiberty) was in town last Sunday for the Brooklyn Book Festival (I went. It rained and I felt lonely. Crowds=not my thing), and was all a-flutter about meeting Mr. Sharpe, which is why I picked up this remainder. Then I saw it was dystopic and was like SIGN ME UP.
The Intutionist, Colson Whitehead, at Spoonbill & Sugartown: As aforementioned, I loved his Sag Harbor with all my heart and probably half of someone else's if they'd lend it to me--but it's the only one of his I've ever read. Happy to get the chance to remedy this!
Bonjour Tristesse, Françoise Sagan, at Three Lives: To be honest, I don't know much about this one, except that it's even French-ier than Bad Marie. I think I will read it wearing my striped almost-boatneck.
Motherless Brooklyn, Jonathan Lethem, at Book Culture: I do love Lethem, and not just because he showed up at his post-Thanksgiving marathon-reading-with-donuts at WORD in the world's cutest sweater vest. A prime example of the hyper-literate, pop-culture-addled prose style that will lead me to forgive almost any literary sin. And a great riff on the noir novel, only with an excessively verbose hero rather than a taciturn one.
The Scar, China Miéville, at Greenlight: O hai, Mr. Awesomepants, we meet again! And in convenient mass-market paperback form!
The Midwife's Apprentice, Karen Cushman, at BookCourt: Will be starting this immediately after finishing this blog post! Stephanie, my manager at WORD, is only five years younger than me, and it almost never makes a difference, especially as we were similarly bookish children--but when she described this one to me, I was like "How on earth did I miss this when I was a little girl?!?!" Check the pub date: oh, I was in high school.
American Gods, Neil Gaiman, at Park Slope Community Bookstore: Another mass-market find! So many folks have recommended this one to me, I have no idea how I've let it go so long. Also, this bookstore totally had a kitty, happily ensconced on Emma Donoghue's Room--what does it say about me that I'll take a feline endorsement over that of the Booker Prize committee?
I would also like to mention, proudly, that these purchases brought my to-be-read stack up to 19, and I've been rolling a d20 to randomly determine which to read next. Says my friend Marlo, "Sometimes, I'm not sure that you can get any nerdier. Then you post this. It's adorable." Why, thank you!