Books: We have them. You want them. Sometimes. Now is one of those times, because I am about to tell you what’s new and good.

In paperback:

• Blood, Bones & Butter: This is a memoir by the woman who runs Prune. Astaff pick of Douglas, hated by the serial commatariat.
• Open City: Teju Cole’s meandering novel about a man meandering through New York City.
• Leaving the Atocha Station: This isn’t new, but it remains great.
• Invalid Format: An Anthology of Triple Canopy: Also not the newest, still one of the most interesting destinations on the internet.
• Conversations with Kafka: Franz!
• Ten Thousand Saints: The Lower East Side! Punks! Straight edge! The ’80s!
• Dukla: Dukla! Dustin says it’s “one of the most gently but singularly pointless novels I’ve read recently, is also one of the most satisfying.”

In hardcover:

• Life Sentences: Cranky old Gass’ baroque sentences are still the funnest to read, even when they don’t make all the sense.
• The Flame Alphabet: We’ve got signed copies of this, about language plague.
• Vicky Swanky Is a Beauty: Deb Olin Unferth, whom I trust, says that “Each page is like throwing open the window in an electrical storm—strange sky, air full of voltage, and inside, a square of brave.”