I was going to write this yesterday. I was going to write something like, hurrah! a new John Harvey, he's my favourite English crime writer by a long East Midlands (with the occasional detour to Cornwall) country mile; that's my evening sorted then, but then I remembered that I was down to cook a 3 course (with choices) menu for a dinner party for eleven 13 year old girls, and we like nothing more around these parts than to stick to the facts - versimiliwhatsit or whatever.
So, anyway, I clearly hadn't been paying attention, because as I was sauteing potatoes to accompany chicken fricassee (accompanied by green salad - vegetarian option; lasagne) I said to Justine; so when are they leaving?
And she said, between 10 and 11 (pause) tomorrow morning.
There are days, I tell you, when the yoga comes in very handy; I managed a weak smile.
Then one of the girls said Audrey Hepburn and lit her breadstick from one of the candles in the centre of the table and the next thing all eleven of them were alight and making like Holly Golightly and the kitchen suddenly smelt like a bonfire in a Body Shop factory.
And the less said about the chocolate fountain the better.
Of course, this morning there was nothing for it but to barricade myself in the bedroom and read; but the moment for beginning a new John Harvey had for the time being, past - who, after all, would feel like reading about a grim homosexual murder whilst the house is so full of life and somewhere in the background downstairs a just-teenage voice is asking, er, has anybody seen a black bra?
And so instead I settled on The Brainstorm by Jenny Turner, picked out at the shop initially because it has the best designed cover of any novel I have so far seen this year (though the book doesn't actually credit anybody with designing it) secondly, because it was set, at least in part, in south London, and thirdly because it was short and at first glance had the pace and tempo of a Sunday morning read. And blimey, so far it is very good indeed; a funny story concerning young women politicking and rubbing along in a newspaper office in the 90's that someone cleverer than I might manage to connect and contrast with the lives of the lot downstairs and their innocent Breakfast at Tiffany's fantasies, one of whom has just managed to trail dog-poo throughout the house.




Two new novellas from one of my favourite writers. Trust me, he should be one of your favourite writers too.
The first great south London novel of 2013. Signed copies available now.
Huge congratulations to Kerry Hudson for her shortlisting for the Guardian first book award. Entirely deserved. And we have (a few) signed copies left too.
One of my favourite novels, The End of Vandalism by Tom Drury. "Quite heartbreaking,laugh-out-loud funny, and always, absolutely convincing" - Jayne Anne Phillips.
I would also highly recommend Drury's last book The Driftless Area.
Now in paperback, the latest novel from one of my favourite writers and perhaps his most ambitious yet. An allegory, a fairytale, a bit Lewis Carroll a bit Calvino and entirely magical.
One of the most talked-about and blogged-about books of the summer. And deservedly so.The hardback has now gone out of print. We have two left.
Buy a signed copy of Driving Jarvis Ham the brilliant new novel by Jim Bob.
This is being boosted in some quarters as the ‘new’ Beach. It’s not. It’s much better than that. Imagine, if you will, a cross between The Long Good Friday and Point Break. A physical novel closer to Tim Winton or Kem Nunn worth the price of admission for the diving scenes alone and a must for anyone who has ever dipped a toe in the water. Signed copies.
Now in paperback, the brilliant new collection of stories by Dan Chaon.
The latest McSweeney's with a poem from Bolano and a piece of Elmore Leonard.
A new collection of short stories from Tessa Hadley. The often unexpected, calmly told. Lovely cover too. Now watch them bork the paperback.
Lovely weed-fueled ramble across Britain in the dark. Fireworks, football, a bit of shagging, It could have been the worst thing I've ever read (not that not fond of all of the above). But it's not, it's good. Buy it for your boyfriend
.
Buy a signed copy of Mark's very funny book.
One way or another the end of the world is coming. Beautifully, individually signed by Steven Appleby and Art Lester.
“In his own danceless life he couldn’t imagine anyone laughing on a November dawn but here it was. He tried to dismiss the image of three nude girls in the same bed but it was like trying not to think of a white horse.” Pete Dexter quoting Jim Harrison in his glorious review for the
Geoff Dyer's book of the year (The Guardian 26th Nov) It has a ramshackle loquacity, a down-home hyper-eloquence and an off-the-wallishness that is almost lapidary... And now James Wood reviews it in the
Books from America
Website
'Happy is a strong word.' The new, brilliantly written, novel from Dan Chaon.
Back then it was always sandals, bottom half of a flower-print bikini, faded Country Joe and the Fish Tshirt.

Wonderfully playful picture book featuring Tiny, Moonpie and Andre. Signed copies available.
Well aware that no animal has ever been sued for libel, Cheeta, star of Tarzan and Doctor Doolittle, tells it as it really was. Naughty boy.


Learn more about The Mousehunter - read the first chapter, buy a signed copy with exclusive free badge
Now with added Booker and Costa. This is what I said in February.
If you haven't already visited the website for this book, go there
I woke up in a foreign armpit. Buy a signed copy
The London boozer fully explained. Now smoke free. The funniest fucking book you will read all year. So funny in fact, that Steven Hunt is not allowed to carry a copy on public transport. Buy 


Crikey O'Reilly. I'm going to have to put more effort into my attempts to steer both my grrrls towards the life of the social misfit and loner. We need more clothes shopping in Ukraine, birthday parties at the local Honda dealership, very short hair cuts.
I have chosen several of my favourite books because they had good covers. I noticed today an advert in the paper for "Nature Girl" with a terrible cover. My edition, from your shop, has that brilliant yellow cover by Charles Burns. Was it bad to feel smug?
Posted by: ditdotdat | February 04, 2007 at 01:00 PM
Oh, good luck. Pre-teenage sleepovers are a series of memories I realised I'd repressed until reading this post. How was the clean up in the morning? I guess nobody went to sleep. Did one girl get left out and picked on? And did they decide to make pancakes at 3am?
Posted by: Meredith | February 04, 2007 at 09:46 PM
ditdot - no smug is fine; you are quite right I think, the Brit edition really does have a stinker of a cover.
Posted by: JonathanM | February 05, 2007 at 04:31 PM
Meredith, er, do you know I think I might have slept through the clean up, Sunday morning being officially booksellers lie-in time. I did meet a girl on the stairs at 5.30 when I went for a pee, but as far as I can tell they all got along fine and Justine made them pancakes for breakfast.
Posted by: JonathanM | February 05, 2007 at 06:57 PM
Yoga is one of the saving graces I rely on, too, to keep me sane. If that indeed can be done. The jury is currently out.
I do like that book jacket design...
Posted by: sarahsbooks | February 05, 2007 at 07:35 PM
Sarah - but not in your DM's I trust.
Posted by: JonathanM | February 06, 2007 at 06:38 PM
They do lower my center of gravity significantly.
And ditdotdat, when you say you're going to attempt "to steer both my grrrls towards the life of the social misfit and loner" - I can recommend the profession of used bookshop owner. I really don't know where else I'd feel so at home.
:O)
Posted by: sarahsbooks | February 06, 2007 at 10:13 PM