I've had pretty good luck in terms of quality when going to the library and checking out random books that I otherwise know nothing about from the new releases shelf.
An excerpt from one of my latest happy finds:
"Whatever music I have had risen from the bedlam of the Bronx, all the staccato sounds, the syncopation of sadness and loss."
Holy $@(%. That's just from the author's note.
Seriously, that's from Jerome Charyn, and if you enjoy language like that that pares down sentences until only the right words are left, I really recommend checking out his story collection Bitter Bronx. "The Cat Lady's Kiss" reads like a fairy tale perfectly transposed to New York and rolled around in grit.
I mean, damn.