When I go to Costco I’m always tempted to buy books I haven’t read about but look interesting, when I see them there at their cheap price. For example, I saw 1421: the Year China Discovered the World there for less than 10 bucks. I don’t read much history books, but I seemed interesting as I started reading there. Then I thought my dad might like it. Then I thought I could sell them used on amazon.ca, probably making a profit. I didn’t buy it. Yet.
I recently finished A Shortcut in Time by Charles Dickinson. It was a page-turner with excellent characterization. Click the above link for a summary of the plot.
Here’s what I bought this morning (all prices are in U.S. As of Feb. 14, 2004, multiply the amounts by 1.32 to get Canadian dollars):
- Fast Food Nation: The Dark Side of the All-American Meal by Eric Schiosser. I got this at Costco for $7.99. I read a lot about it but was waiting to find it for a good price.
- Gap Creek by Robert Morgan, from Barnes & Noble for $4.98. This is an Oprah’s Book Club selection. That isn’t a bad thing now!
- River, Cross My Heart by Breena Clarke, from Barnes & Noble for $3.98. Another Oprah selection. So sue me.
- One More for the Road by Ray Bradbury, from Barnes & Noble for $5.98 ($26.57 at
amazon.ca!). This is a hard-cover, short-story collection with original stories. I’ll buy anything by Ray Bradbury.
- Chess: 5334 Problems, Combinations, and Games by Laszlo Polgar, from Barnes & Noble for $9.98. I’ve been eyeing this one in bargain bins for over a year.
- Bookmarks magazine, "for everyone who hasn’t read everything". From their web site:
Our philosophy is to balance critical consensus with unique opinions. The New Books Guide included in every issue is created by studying all the book critic’s reviews appearing in major newspapers, magazines, and the Internet.
I’ve stopped reading Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs; it’s a memoir about a young boy growing up in an odd environment, with lots of unusual, often sad events that illustrate what’s influenced the boy’s perception of himself and the world. I grew tired of it, not caring about him or his mother. The writing seemed forced, as if the memoir was painful to tell; maybe that was the author’s intent, but it didn’t work for me.