With impeccably fortunate timing, my husband was out of town when the local library chain had their annual sale of books they no longer need. Such sales, here in Perth at least, are typically held in dingy underground car parks that are badly lit and have an odd smell. This one was no different, except that the poor lighting also had a habit of going out completely every now and again. The smell wasn’t so bad, though.

But I didn’t care a bit. Scavenging through shelf after shelf of discarded books, I was shocked at how quickly I filled a large (really large) bag with books I planned to buy. They were around A$1.00 each, which is nearly nothing for a book. I have no idea how the library system decides which books they no longer need, but there was no shortage of books that I could decide I needed. I haven’t even counted how many I ended up with, but I hope they’ll be tucked up neatly in my bookshelves before my husband returns and he won’t notice quite how many there are. He’s a painter, rather than a writer, and would love to institute a one-book-in, one-book-out policy. I always argue that paintings take up a whole lot more space than books.

Anyway, the problem with this book sale is that I now have a mountain of distraction in front of me. I wonder if there are other book lovers reading this who understand that excitement and anticipation, a little shortness of breath even when you see books that you really want to read. I’m trying to finish my novel revision rather than reading, but as soon as that’s done I’ll be starting on some of these:

• The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time, which I have been dying to read for several years, ever since I saw my friend Zitka reading it – since she was reading the Czech translation, she didn’t offer to lend it to me. Not only is the title fantastic, the story sounds a little bit unusual and it has a few odd picture and diagrams. Curious, indeed.
• The Book Thief, written by Markus Zusak, who’s just a year older than me. This was part of the Perth Festival’s “One Book” program, where they have a billion copies of the same book available so heaps of festival-goers have something in common to discuss, which explains why there were dozens of copies of this book at the sale – not because it’s a bad book. I’m sure it’s not. It’s big, though.
• The Map of Love, by Ahdaf Soueif – a novel I heard or read something about long ago but it’s stuck in my mind, somehow. It was also shortlisted for the Booker (in 1999) and I’m a fairly trusting reader and for $1, I’ll read any novel that someone thought worthy of a Booker nomination.

That’s just scraping the surface, but I promise to report back on more gems in the pile as I read them. If you, in turn, promise not to tell my husband that I went a little crazy.