Agatha Christie, Evil Under the Sun, Death in the Clouds, Towards Zero
-- all quite satisfactory
Nina George, The Little Paris Bookshop
-- um well. Quite aside from the mysteriously appearing obituary for someone the protag didn't know was dead at the time but somehow stuffed into a copy of Proust anyway, there's my Anglo reaction of 'but people don't *do* that.' 'That' being 'experience overwhelming love and mutual understanding and perfect sexual compatibility and and and.' I mean, maybe they do. The characters' attitude that love is just 'something that happens to everyone all the time' chimes with what I know of French people, but the sublime apotheosis aspect of it felt a but odd until I found out that the book was written in German. Oh, that's alright then: just the German Romantic tradition at work. You can find the same thing happening in Dick Francis, just toned down for Anglo sensibilities.
Christie, Murder in Mesopotamia
-- must have one's Poirot
Poirot's Early Cases
-- though Poirot shorts are nowhere near as good as Poirot novels
-- have Karen Lord's Redemption in Indigo on hold, should be in soon.
Not sure if I'm going to read The Elegance of the Hedgehog or not, even though it *was* written by a Frenchwoman. The first paragraph did not pull me in.
Current tsurises: washing machine at work broke down yesterday. Amazingly, repairman came this morning, said the whole thing was foutu, our administrator put in an order for a new one and it arrived this afternoon. Of course it's a terrifying digital thing that I do not trust *at all*, but at least it's there.
Have been having heart palpitations when I lie down, for what seems like several months now. Webpages say to stop taking certain of my herbal supplements, stop drinking caffeine, and stop drinking alcohol. The first I've done, the second I might manage, just, the third is 'I'd rather die.' Last time I had this it accompanied a sinus infection, so maybe I'll wait to see what happens after the allergy season is over.