Books To Read, October Edition

But truly, read in your own time, I sure will.

Somehow, I did manage to read a couple of books in September—Lev Rosen’s Lavender House, which is a historical detective novel, with shades of Knives Out, but everyone is gay, pretty much, and I’m almost through with Zadie Smith’s On Beauty, which gives me that glorious feeling of being in the hands of an absolute master. Reading Zadie Smith is like watching an aerialist do spins and twirls fifty feet off the ground. She’s so good that it reminds that I was very, very right to hide behind a large piece of furniture when I went to a reading of hers at WORD a decade ago, because I knew that she was so much smarter than me, truly, and that I would be struck dumb if I attempted to speak to her. (I was.)

Right now I’ve decided to do something very strange, which is to read books that are already out. I bought these in my bookstore. (I get a discount.)

This is my dirty kitchen table and two gorgeous new picture books. Carson and Dasha are two of my favorites, and these are both absolute delights, and hit me in different tender spots. Boney is, as you can see, about a bone, and the story is about a little girl who finds a bone and then brings it everyone, her new prized possession. I won’t spoil the rest but I found it a very respectful and honest approach to death. Lovely. And This Is Not a Story About a Kitten—well. Come on. You know I love a cat book. This one is about community, and neighbors, and this last month I have been so flooded with kind notes and support from my community, and so, yes. It’s not a book about a kitten. Do I want to adopt another kitten? Yes.

Ah yes, the table is still dirty. Meg Wolitzer, World’s Greatest Novelist, wrote me and said that Shy would be just the ticket. I believe everything that Meg tells me. Many friends have read Ducks and reported its perfection, so I’m looking forward to it, too.

And finally—when a fellow bookseller sends you a book in the mail, you know it’s going to be good. My friend Jill over at White Whale sent this Kevin Young book, and I’ve already read half a dozen poems. He is sublime, Jill is sublime, books are sublime, booksellers are sublime.

Also: I would be remiss if I didn’t mention a few friends whose books come out TODAY—Celeste Ng’s Our Missing Hearts, which she and I will be chatting about at St. Ann’s Church tonight, and which you have no doubt already purchased or will purchase in the near future, Celeste’s world domination is imminent! Reese Witherspoon commands it! The other book I must insist you read is Elizabeth McCracken’s The Hero of this Book. Here’s the thing about Elizabeth McCracken: she is wild. You never know what she’s going to give you, but you always know it will be singularly brilliant. This new novel, a slim little baby, is about a woman whose mother has died, and the whole book is really just the narrator walking around London. That makes it sound small! HA! The joke is on you! It is everything. It is about fiction and fact, about memoir and memory, about writing and art and love and loss. She will be at Books Are Magic tomorrow night, talking with Rumaan Alam, and you should probably be there, too.