|09:48 pm - Grounded|
Silver-gilt days of late August bring back memories of travels elsewhere- to Florence in '80, to Japan in '90, to- well, Saiyuki-land in 2000. A good run, I suppose, even if I'm not likely to ever do it again. For one thing, flying is now an ordeal I'm really not up for anymore.
I keep telling myself to note the provenance of things I put on hold. I know where I got Sherlock Holmes and the Giant Rat of Sumatra, which I returned to the library five pages in. Partly because it was large-print, and large-print destroys the text for me; partly because it was ever so slightly off in its pastiche. (Truly, I do wonder at people who indiscriminately read fanfic of a beloved series: the beloved character is simply not themself.)
But why did I put a hold on A Lesson in Dying, however long ago that was? The summary sounds exactly what I want- "A murder mystery begins in a Northumberland village when the local headmaster is killed. As he was hated by one and all, the village is forced to look among its own for the murderer. Before the truth emerges from Superintendent Ramsay's investigation however, another murder is committed." North of England, small towns, detective-inspectors. But I don't know Ann Cleeves from Adam, and I wonder where I came across her. Also am not impressed by this one: characters as thin as Christie's but not nearly as much fun.