I'm off the wagon. Never mind that I started a new book just this morning, had several already under way and holds waiting for me at the public library--I had to go to the used bookstore this afternoon. I hadn't been since before Christmas. I bought Susan Sontag's The Volcano Lover, James Wood's The Book Against God, Halldor Laxness' Paradise Reclaimed, and, the one I most wanted, after getting my appetite whetted for that sort of thing by the Wendy Brenner article earlier in the week, Susan Orlean's The Bullfighter Checks Her Makeup.
Hey, they cost no more than the Chinese R. and I had for dinner last night. That's my justification and I'm sticking to it.
I've just finished reading 12 forum-pages of background info and squee (lots of squee) about the Alias Smith and Jones book due the end of June. I don't know when I've been so psyched about a book. I may very well hyperventilate when my copy arrives.
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