Time for Reading

Something I don't have much of the last few weeks, and the loss of which I regret. Reading is my downtime; reading keeps my brain sharp for writing. Lately, it's all about Viktor - walks and training and playtime - and all about writing. Last week, though, I forced in some pockets of time to read this book. I'd already decided to wait and buy it a little later, once I had more time, but my mom bought it for me as a little surprise treat, and I just couldn't not read it. Tana French's books call softly to me from the bookshelf: come on, you know you want to, just a few pages.

With each new novel of hers, I come away trying to pin down why I love them so much. There are so many reasons. I like well-written books. I like lots of prose. No "see Dick run" plot-burners for me these days. This time, with The Secret Place, I was delighted to see Frank Mackey again; I think he's probably French's favorite character; he's mine for sure. But the thing is, no matter who she's writing, the perspective is always riveting. That's the big reason I love her books: all of her characters are fascinating, and no two are alike. She gets you in their skin and agreeing with them, no matter their viewpoints. That's a gift.

I have a book I need to start for book club next...but when I get those slivers of reading time, I'm going to be jumping into Outlander.

Also this weekend: tree limb dragging. My dad and uncle cut down a massive pear last weekend, and dragging the limbs out of the yard has been a week-long endeavor. Done.

Also, I'm allergic to fennel seeds, I found out after I ate Italian sausage on my pizza and my face swelled up. Oops.

Also, major Fearless progress. Soon. Soon, soon, soon.