Lornographic Material

#5. They smell sexy. Did you know that older books give off that slightly vanillin odor because of the type of chemicals used to treat the paper and not because of the type of wood? Neither did I until I Googled “why do old books smell”. Have you ever taken a deep whiff of a new book, though? Smells kinda like newspaper. Not an overly pleasant smell, but one that makes me randy nonetheless. Something about knowing I’m in store for an adventure through words makes me horny, baby. So, if you ever pass a fat man in a bookstore with his nose crammed in a book and an erection testing the strength of his zipper, say “What’s up!” It might be me.  

#4. They feel nice. Whether it’s the flat matte of a worn paperback, or the greasy feel of a new hardcover’s dust jacket, I loves them all. They feel good in my hands, like a chubby woman. There’s something vaguely mental about this train of thought, but go on and take a ride with me. Growing up, I used to secret away my dad’s girlie mags. They all had glossy covers. The older I got, the more sophisticated my reading material became, and I went from staring at pictures to reading verbose fiction. Still, the feel of the covers remained the same: Slippery. To this day, I love the feel of a new hardcover. I’d rub it all over my body if I didn’t think I’d get it all oily and ruin it. Same with a worn out paperbacks. The spines all cracked and bumpy. I call 'em stretch marks, and just like tiger stripes on women, they make me hot. And yes, I’m being completely honest. Stretch marks, to me, are sexy.

#3. They’s purdy. I don’t give an ugly book the time of day. I know that’s superficial of me, but I want to be honest here. And you know I’m right. Trash without usually (not always, but usually) means trash within. An ugly cover is indicative of an ugly story, or lack of care taken in creating said story. If the author/publisher didn’t worry themselves over what is essentially the advertisement for their product, then chances are the inside is as big of if not an even larger mess. This is something a great many independent authors fail to realize. Almost no one goes by that old saying “Don’t judge a book by its cover." You have to remember, people eat with their eyes first, and even if that pile of shit tastes like red velvet cupcakes and cherry Kool-Aid, it still looks like a mound of excrement. Trust me, I understand horrible books can have gorgeous covers, but at least they look pretty on my bookshelf after I've finished them. Yup, yup. If you wanna be with me, provide a sexy cover, please.

#2. The synopsis makes me feel like a kid again. When reading a description of a book, I want that giddy sense of expectation. I want a sense of urgency; as if I have to read it right this instant or the world will end. I need to feel the magic without spoiling it, though. A good synopsis tells me about the first 25% of a book only. If when I finish the synopsis I feel as if I’ve read the entire book, I’m probably not going to buy it. I mean, what’s the point? Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate you saving me money, but I kinda wanted a longer experience. The best synopses ask questions. “In a world of three-breasted women, will the two-tongued man be king?” or “At the end of it all, will there be a new beginning? Should Game Over Man press continue?” You know, shit like that. Never, ever, evereverevereverever, tell me your vital plot points. Oh, and do your best not to lie to me. Don’t say stuff like “A gripping novel of edge-of-your-seat suspense with a cliffhanger ending on the slippery slope of Mount Clench-Yo-Teeth!” or “Bring plenty of Kleenex because we’re about to thug-punch your feels right in the care-sack.” Though those sentences might be true to some readers, there’s a possibility my handhold and care-sack might never be in danger. Not everyone responds to literature in the same way, and telling me how I should react is a guaranteed way to make me not react at all.

#1. My friends won’t shut the [expletive deleted] up about a book. I see it everywhere. All my buddies have read it. They hate it or they love it, but either way I have to read it for myself. I’ve slogged through so many horrible books because I had to form my own opinion: TWILIGHT, HARRY POTTER, ROSEMARY’S BABY, 50 SHADES OF GREY, STEELHEART… the list goes on. I don’t fault my friends for my lack of enjoyment, I’m saying that this is one of the reasons I buy books. Because, you know, that’s the whole theme of this blog post. (And do your fangirling/boying somewhere else. If you like any of those books/series I mentioned that’s fine. But I didn’t. So... there! *sticks tongue out, waggles it, tastes something funny on the air, rethinks decision, questions what he’s doing with his life, slinks away*) … Where was I? Oh yeah, popular books. Yes, this is probably the number one reason I buy a book: because everybody and their overly opinionated mommas have already read it or are going to read it in the near future. I’ve come across more good books than bad ones using this method, so I will continue to follow the recommendations of my compatriots. My comrades have only let me down a handful of times. Luckily, I’m only a completionist with authors whose work I enjoy, or have enjoyed once upon a time. Dean Koontz, I'm looking at you, ass panda.

#0. In summation, I buy books based on triggers and friend recs. Why do you buy certain books? Leave your own excuses in the comment section of this post, or create your own post and link me to it. Also, if you're so inclined, what's the most you've ever spent on a book and why? For me, it was a signed Cemetery Dance's 25th Anniversary Edition of Stephen King's IT. $125, because it's one of my favorite books of all time, and the art work is freakin' beau-oooooooo-tiful!

This was fun. Thanks for reading.

Love yo faces,

E.