I have been on a bit of a shopping spree with books the last few months, and I’ve added no fewer than 20 titles to my collection. That’s not unusual; I’m an English professor. In the words of Malcolm Reynolds, “It’s what I do, darlin’. It’s what I do.”
But I’ve been a bit… obsessive about buying books, and I don’t know why. I’m not even reading them–my stack from the library, some 15 books high, as well as books for classes–are keeping me from reading the books I’m buying. In fact, several times over the past few days, I’ve picked up books I already have from the library, considered them, and decided at the last minute not to buy them because they were already, quite literally, at my house.
Some authors I buy no matter what they write: Stephen King, Connie Willis, Jim Butcher, Harry Connolly, Mike Carey, Tana French, Gail Carriger, Ally Carter, and a few others of great note. These are our Authors of Note, the ones we love and worship in our household. But a few others are finding their ways onto our bookshelves and into our hearts.
What are you buying lately, Gentle Reader?
The Postmodern Bluestocking 