Clearance Book Haul as 2026 Reading Goals https://ift.tt/dlZbNYf
On the first Friday of the new year, my family and I found ourselves in our local 2nd & Charles. We were on a quest for gently used Jimmy Buffett albums, being that our six-year-old son is a self-proclaimed Parrot Head and our indie record store yielded no results.
If you’ve ever been in “the store for more,” then you know it’s nearly impossible to leave with less than what you bargained for, which is how I ended up with a stack of $2 to $7 finds, in addition to two age-approrpriate(ish) CDs by the Mayor of Margaritaville. Once home, I studied my personal picks and realized all of them speak to different aspects of my reading-writing life, which I want to devote more time to this year.
I love watching a “whodunit” (most recently, Task), but it’s been years since I’ve read one. Seeing this pun-ny title and cheeky cover speaks to my adolescent addiction to Lois Duncan novels. The scenery (a small, picturesque island) and characters (people with more money than morals) also check some boxes for me when it comes to quick, fun reads. Bonus: the copy I snagged is a large print library edition – as much conversation piece as impromptu doorstop.
I remember seeing this book (cover) everywhere when it came out in 2016. Why didn’t I read it then? Honestly, it’s probably because I had wedding-planning blinders on. It happens. I also believe that fate helps us “circle back” to books when the timing is better. Ten years later, we still need more immigrant narratives. In this one, the main character, Jende Jonga, a Cameroonian immigrant, works for a finance executive in New York City. Jende and his wife, Neni, are pursuing the American dream for themselves, and for their six-year-old son. The year is 2007. I know the conflict “coming for them” in this book; I’m anxious to see how they fight against it.
I am a first daughter. In elementary school, my peer-given nickname was “Miss Perfect.” I have abandoned many of those Type-A tendencies in adulthood, but I can recognize the tell-tale signs in my son, an only child of two first-born parents. I’m hoping this book will help me help us both. Plus, it is in “perfect” shape for passing along.
This one has been on my mental TBR ever since I read Kelly Klein’s Outside magazine article about the woes of mountain town dating and how Houston’s stories helped her reconnect with her sense of self. I’ve been single in the Midwest, so perhaps I can relate to some of Houston’s fictionalized romps. Mostly, I’m interested in getting to know the “brave, smart women” Klein promises I’ll meet in the pages of this paperback, a 20th anniversary reprint.
Finding this paperback in the bargain bin was like discovering a tube of my favorite, discontinued lipstick; I gasped when I spotted it. My high school BFF (and fellow bibliophile) introduced me to Laurie Notaro decades ago and we would call and email each other about our favorite pee-your-pants moments in The Idiot Girl books. At first, I couldn’t remember why I stopped reading Laurie Notaro, and then I did: grad school. Housebroken seems like a perfect fit, then, for my first full calendar year as a former academic.
Initially, I felt like I’d read this one, but no. It’s been living in my Libro.fm “Unfinished” library for a while. I do vaguely remember listening to a lot of my favorite podcasters interview Sale around the book’s launch, which must be why I downloaded it. But in Spring 2021, I was wrapping up treatment for breast cancer so, of course, I wasn’t really looking to read about “Death” (I was facing it.), “Sex” (I wasn’t having it.), “Money” (We were hemorrhaging it.), or any of the other topics this book tackles. Now that my family and I have survived hard things, I know I can talk about them and I look forward to Sale’s advice – be it in my ears or on the page.
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