please bury me in the library

Freshly ground coffee and thick, alluring novels being opened for the very first time.

These are the smells that warmly greet me as I am swept with the snow into my bookstore, and my heart swells in anticipation. Indeed, for a true lover of reading and writing, such heightened senses are not only likely but are to be expected. (For the record, one should be wary of entering into relationships with said lovers, as these types of people are already involved in a lifelong affair; that is to say, if one is flirting with the thought of marriage, one should know that this marriage will not be monogamous at all and will no doubt have to make room for these lusted books, as these books will not make room for them.)

"My" bookstore happens to be Borders, one of the largest chain stores in the country (a statement declared with no significance in pride, believe me, but is just that, a statement). Borders is no Shop Around the Corner (come on, admit it - you've seen You've Got Mail, and you liked it), but beggars can't be choosers. I was never fortunate enough as a child to have one of those quaint little bookstores tucked away in a charming nook downtown, strung with twinkling lights and cozily stacked with tomes filled with stories ready to whisk me away to faraway places where the impossible could become possible with a simple turn of the page.

No - and I admit this with a heavy sigh - I was ill-fatedly born in one of the more useless towns in Massachusetts devoid of both quaint, charming shops and garish chain stores, and was thus unfairly forced to rendezvous with my opportunistic lover at the mall. Now, you must know, there are very few things in my life that have caused me to truly pity myself, but this is most certainly one of them.

This past weekend, I had the pleasure of perusing the rows of books at Borders at my leisure (well, okay, I perused one row - it takes me forever and a day to move along when I'm this intently focused), and discovered a number of books that, for one reason or another, sparked my interest. Having left my extra limb, otherwise known as a notebook, at home (seriously, how could I forget my greedy nature when presented with mass quantities of literature?), I had no choice but to tediously key the titles into the memo section of my cellphone.

Never again.

So here they are, in no particular order (except for the first one), the books I intend on worming my way through at some point this season:

1. All He Ever Wanted [Anita Shreve] - I put this one first because I already bought it, and not even at Borders but at Marshalls for $4. The price was one of two reasons for my purchase, the second being that I see Anita Shreve's name on forefronted books all the time and have never read any of her work. So far it is slightly boring and I haven't yet determined if her strange and repeated use of parenthesis is genius or just plain annoying.
2. Man Gone Down [Michael Thomas] - I read a blurb about this one in a magazine, but it wasn't the summary that intrigued me so much as this comment made by a reviewer that I found on amazon.com: "There are parts of the book where you wonder what in the HELL he is talking about because of the rambling, but just as you begin to get exasperated, Thomas hits you with a brilliant passage like an espresso shot and you sit up and pay attention again." Mmkay. Sold.
3. All Saints [Liam Callanan] - Found this one in the same magazine. I want to read it if for no other reason than to hear about someone who has the potential of being more screwed up than I am.
4. Then We Came to the End [Joshua Ferris] - I read somewhere that reading this book is like watching Office Space. Though that's all I needed to know, I did end up reading the first chapter while standing on a stool at Borders and no doubt turned a few heads with my secluded snorting fits.
5. The Turtle Warrior [Mary Ellis] - The synopsis for this one reminds me of A River Runs Through It, which I loved. I think I just have a soft spot for dysfunctional families.
6. The Meaning of Night: A Confession [Michael Cox] - Intrigue, history and romance? Washington Post says, "The sensation novel, after all, deals in narrative traps for the unwary and diabolical plot twists and innocence besmirched and oily evil laughingly triumphant (at least for a while). But Cox further darkens his own superb pastiche by imbuing it with a modern noir sensibility when he makes the character of his hero as unsettling as that of his villains." Heeeeeeeeeck yes.
7. The Vanishing Moon [Joseph Coulson] - I've always been fascinated by stories of life during The Great Depression. Toss in some "emotionally damaged characters" and you've got yourself a deal.
8. Running For the Hills: Growing Up on My Mother's Sheep Farm in Wales [Horatio Clare] - I know, I know what you're thinking. I'm laughing at my dorkiness right now, as I knew I would when I decided to add this one to my list. But seriously, I am making a point to read more memoirs and, oh, there's no way to avoid admitting this...it sounds interesting to me! I mean, I really would like to know what it's like growing up on a sheep farm in Wales. Is that a crime?
9. The Yellow-Lighted Bookshop [Lewis Buzbee] - I'm in no rush to read this one, but have no doubt that I eventually will. Go back and read the first couple paragraphs of my blog - this book is basically 180 pages of that.
10. The Echo Maker [Richard Powers] - Not gonna lie, the title got me. I was determined to read it regardless of its content which, fortunately, sounded awesome: A guy gets into a very bad accident, goes into a coma, and emerges "unable to match his visual and intellectual identifications with his emotional ones. " Fill in the blanks and don't tell me you aren't riveted!
11. Water For Elephants [Sara Gruen] - The account of a man's life after joining the circus in Depression-era America. I'm all over this one.
12. A Long Way Gone: Memoirs of A Boy Soldier [Ishamel Beah] - Saw this one at Starbucks a few weeks ago and have been itching to read it ever since.

Now it's 12:08 AM, and I'll admit the point of this blog was originally to pass the time and keep myself awake so I could watch Anberlin on the Late Late Show with Craig Fergusen at 12:35. That's pretty good timing, especially considering something went very wrong about 20 minutes ago and my entire blog - and I do mean the ENTIRE thing - got deleted. Lost in cyberspace forever. At first I was planning on crying. Hard. Thankfully, though, I recently discovered that when it comes to writing, I have an eidetic memory. I'm still in the process of testing the limits of this newfound gift, but so far - especially after tonight - I'm very pleased. I have just re-written my entire blog word for word, exactly as it was the first time around.

Now, wish me Godspeed as I race to the television to catch the greatest band of all time perform their first new single Godspeed.