I mean, there are WAY more than eight reasons. My husband just gives me a Look every time I bring a new library book home now, because he’s bored of admonishing me. But whatever.
Here are eight more books that I have collected from the library solely because I saw them while cataloging, in roughly chronological retrieval order. Again, I have failed to read any so far, but that’s not the point, right? The point is pretty books!
1. These Children Who Come at You With Knives, by Jim Knipfel. Nuts! I’m only one book in, and already there’s an exception. Technically, it doesn’t count because I didn’t catalog this book, but I’m counting it because I only heard about from cataloging anther Knipfel book I don’t recall anything about. I was wondering if that other book would get a genre label, so I looked up the author, and then I saw this title and I was like, “OoooOOOOoooh.” Short stories? Retold fairy tales? I was intrigued. And then it promised me “a magical snowman wrestling with the horror of being alive,” and I was like take THAT, evil snowmen, and put a hold on it. I should be reading it for RIP, so maybe you’ll hear about it soon?
2. Mice, by Gordon Reece. This could probably go for RIP, too! This one has fog and a lone tree on the cover, combined in a deliciously creepy way, and the jacket copy promises more creepy: “At first, they [the main characters] flourish in their cottage haven, drinking hot chocolate and listening to Brahms by the fire. But on the eve of her sixteenth birthday, Shelley wakes to hear a creak on the stairs. Someone is in the house….” Augh! Someone in the house! Interruption of BRAHMS! It is meant to be both scary and funny, so I’m intrigued.
3. The Edinburgh Dead, by Brian Ruckley. I might be sensing a theme here. Whatever. The back cover offers grisly medical experiments on corpses, and also more “sinister” forces, but it’s really the tagline on the cover that got me here: “There is a law against murder. But there are no laws for the dead.” What does that even mean? I must find out! Also, it’s got an 1820s setting and is allegedly gothic. They’ve got me!
4. The Postmortal, by Drew Magary. I almost set this book aside because it has a bit of a trying-too-hard cover and a blurb from the Shit My Dad Says guy that includes a reference to facial urination. Riiiiiight, moving on? But then I read the book’s description, which basically describes the most recent season of Torchwood without all the parts I hated — the world figures out how to stop aging, although death is still allowed, and it leads to all sorts of weird stuff like religious cults and government euthanasia. Please, tell me more.
5. Salvage the Bones, by Jesmyn Ward. Confession: even though I was intrigued by this book from the moment I saw it, when I found out that it was going to get an “African American” sticker, I got the image of all those terrible-looking romance novels that plague that section and I very nearly put this book right out of my mind. But then I was like, “ALISON. BAD.” So here it is! Salvage the Bones is, according to the dust jacket, a book about a poor family in Mississippi threatened by an approaching hurricane and also dealing with a crap father, teen pregnancy, a lack of food, and a new litter of pit bulls. The book spans only twelve days, so I’m anticipating a very suspenseful read.
6. Death of the Mantis, by Michael Stanley. It’s a murder mystery. That’s all I really know. But the writers (Michael Sears and Stanley Trollip) are out of Johannesburg, so this is totally going to count for the Global Reading Challenge, and that (along with, you know, MURDER) is good enough for me!
7. Paper Covers Rock, by Jenny Hubbard. Huh. The back cover of this book doesn’t really tell me anything about why I put a hold on this book… but if I recall correctly the answer is twofold: a) boarding school, and b) mysteriously dead person. I am so easy to please. Also, the guy on the cover is wearing a knitted tie. I have no idea why.
8. My Beautiful Genome, by Lone Frank. Look! A book with no death in it! It’s not even fiction! WHAT. This is a book all about genomics and designer babies and what your genes can really say about you, and I kind of adore Gattaca and if there’s no reference to it I’ll be quite sad. Also, Mary Roach says (of her own free will, I presume) that it’s “sharp and funny.” So that’s a bonus point right there.