So earlier I posted a review (oh fine, ‘rave’) of The Good Son, which I enjoyed writing so much that I’m considering actually paying more regard to the title of this blog in future and doing a few more ‘Books I bloody love’ entries. Especially at the moment, while I’m somewhat nostalgic and rereading the Asimov Dragon Books series, and reciting the Thunder poem from Thunderwith on a loop in my head, like it’s an earworm. Meantime, though, this has been a week of Happenings, the biggest one being that I turned 33. I admit to dreading it. Continue reading “Age cannot wither her, except it has.”
All right, let’s take a breather from endless witterings about new jobs and moving, and go back to something lit-based. News, folks – there’s always* news! (*sometimes.) And, what the hell, today I’ll combine it with something of a review. Yes, it’ll be one of those rare occasions where I focus on something marginally relating to the name of this blog. Speaking of which, the title of this entry is a reach and I know, but work with me.
My bookshelves are groaning. I mean that literally – there’s some precarious bending of slats going on. This year’s Christmas haul consists of 84 books that I’ve never read and about 120 that I haven’t read for eight years. Continue reading “We’re going to need a bigger flat (with more shelves)”