Previously Loved Finds

This week's spoils

I went book diving again this weekend, so I thought I’d take the time to share (/brag about, I mean, really) my conquests. Clockwise from the top left:

The History of Love, by Nicole Krauss (PB). I’ve already blogged about  this one, and indeed I have a copy. But when I really like a book, I always pick up extra copies to thrust upon unsuspecting friends and family members, because one of the greatest pleasures of being widely read is match-making  books and their ideal readers.

The Dutch Wife, by Eric McCormack. (HC) This was an amusing and fortuitous find. I was reading Corey Redekop’s Shelf Monkey a couple weeks ago, and the novel’s fugitive protagonist writes letters to a prominent Canadian writer . . . who, embarrassingly,  I’d never heard of. And then, it seemed, the bookish fates intervened, and I now have one of his  books.

The Red Queen, by Margaret Drabble (PB). I’ve never read anything by this Dame of British letters, and I thought it was time. Plus, I love hist fic, and admittedly, put a lot of faith in M&S books.

The Accidental, by Ali Smith (HC). Another writer I’ve been meaning to get [...]

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 [...]

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