Tonight I shall finish Rankin's The naming of the dead. I find Rebus too much to bear, talk about Brookner's characters being gloomy, at least they don't give me a sympathetic pain in the chest and throat with the cigarettes, or cause me to worry about the drink consumption levels. Why isn't the man dead? Perhaps he will be soon, I'm at p 375. He might get Morse'd. Morgan Forster kills people off quite shockingly and now it's become the mode.
Next Dawkins on God awaits me. Or perhaps gods, but I'm bound to have something to say about that kind of thing. Prepare yourselves.
The priest has been very quiet today but I feel a bell outburst will occur at 7am tomorrow just to teach us all for laughing at rituals.
2 comments:
never tried rebus - there's an omnibus at the seaside that companion tried but put down again saying too depressing.
the most visceral reaction to description of drink consumption i ever had was reading the sweet forever: pelecanos really knows how to make you feel a hangover.
There's a thought. Should seaside/florence/castellina books be fully integrated or treated as in branch libraries?
When I was small there used to be travelling library vans as well, that could be borrowed from by those in outposts.
Perhaps a few shelves fitted into the landrover?
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