More Buried Treasures

I went on another successful book diving mission this weekend, and I couldn’t resist sharing the spoils:

Clockwise from top left:

Deafening, by Francis Itani (PB). A KIRBC recommendation (read Emily’s review here) has had me on the hunt for this one for a while. Not to mention it’s won the Commonwealth Prize and has Canada Reads street cred.  This one will probably jump up in the reading queue pretty soon.

Muriella Pent, by Russel Smith (HC). I’m not going to lie, the thing that has really captivated about this book, is the painting on the cover. It’s one of my faves at the AGO (which has free admission on Wed nights, Torontonians). The painting, The Marchesa Casati  byAugustus Edwin John, hangs in one of rooms crowded with rather stuffy portraits and old-timey landscapes in heavy gilded frames, and this woman just pierces right through all that drab and dreary. I do love a firey read head, but it’s more than that: is she sad or scheming? With the blustery skies in the background it could be either. But one thing is for sure, that knowing gaze is (in the words of Tyra Banks) FIERCE. I’ve also been meaning to read more of Russell Smith than his weekly man-style column in the Globe, and while he offers sage advice, I’m sure he has more to give.

Pilgrim, by Timothy Findley (PB). It being Findley is enough for me, though the painting on this cover is more unsettling than the the last: The Virgin Mary meets Obi Wan Kenobi. And is that supposed to be as vulgar as I think?(Clearly my brain is a little over-sexed after finishing Diablo Cody’s Candy Girl.)

We So Seldom Look on Love, by Barbara Gowdy (PB). I’m not a big short story reader, but I’m making an exception for Gowdy. Also, I like the look of Gowdy’s Harper Perennial editions.

A Thousand Splendid Suns, by Khaled Hosseini (HC). Kind of a big deal, you know? I liked The Kite Runner, so I’m into reading this. Plus this edition was like one of those used book miracles — it doesn’t even look read (which, of course, I hope isn’t the case).

The Bloody Chamber, by Angela Carter (PB). I was introduced to Carter through The Magic Toyshop, a book I studied for a research assistant position which focused on modern gothic novels and the family (if that topic makes you think big incest, you would be more right than you care to know). But Carter’s writing has more to it than lusty trysts between blood relatives, and certainly she’s a master of her genre. Plus, this book has some of the more hardcore marginalia I’ve seen. And though I loved the Hosseini for being pristine, I’m completely intrigued by how this one has been colonized by overzealous pencil scrawls and multi-colour highlighter. We’ll see if I can crack the code.

Brokeback Mountain, by Annie Proulx. (HC – That grey mystery sans dustjacket.) I’m a sucker for forbidden love and am a big fan of cowboys (even if these ones wouldn’t be big fans of me). Plus, I’ve been meaning to read Proulx for a while, and this slim little novella seems perfectly tailored for my subway reading convenience.

TOTAL SPENT: $6.25