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text 2019-04-23 23:01
Reading progress update: I've read 70%.
Crooked House - Agatha Christie

Charles is... so much of his time.


His feelings of comfort on meeting the nanny made me sorry for him and all the others in his generation who lived with this kind of surrogacy.


The storytelling is suffering from that fact that Charles has no side-kick to bounce things off, hide things from or make witty remarks to. We have to suffer through his interior monologue, which mostly reveals that he is too close to the family and too conventional in his thinking to uncover the murders. 


I continue to like Josephine and rather hope that she will solve the mystery. As for her brother, he and boarding school deserve one another.

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text 2019-04-23 21:46
Booklikes YA Book Club read
The Glittering Court - Richelle Mead

Just starting this for booklikes YA book club.  I've liked other books by this author but reviews from friends are so mixed it should be interesting.

Source: booklikes.com/book-clubs/12/ya-book-club
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review 2019-04-23 12:59
Just an okay read.
When the Sky Fell on Splendor - Emily Henry

I thought the book was just ok, I was thinking it would be my type of book. But sadly that was just not the case unfortunately. I thought the characters were just ok, the plot just wasn't very drawn out to me. And I didn't care for the ending and was kind of confused on exactly what took place. I am sure there are other readers that will love the book. I am just not one of them.

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text 2019-04-23 03:09
Reading progress update: I've read 17%.- a book and my insomniac ramblings
Blood on the Tracks (Sydney Rose Parnell Series) - Barbara Nickless

This has found its feet. The main character is interesting. The writing is clear and strong.


I'm having an insomniac night. I'm glad to be in the company of a book, even one about broken people and their grief.


The main character talks about *the weight" of her dead. She carries them with her. Sees them at her breakfast table.


I like "weight" as a description.


I'm a civilian. No PTSD for me. But that doesn't mean no weight. I don't see anyone but the living at my breakfast table. I don't get glimpses of the gone.


My dead are like potholes in my road, cavities in my teeth, absences that make themselves known from time to time and snag all of my attention.


In my experience, grief doesn't move through six neatly labelled stages and then stop. It comes in waves that drench you and then leave. Sometimes it's just a splash. Sometimes they roll you for a while, so you don't know which way is up and breathing becomes difficult.


I'm thankful that I don't have the survivor guilt this book focuses on. I haven't survived anything. I just haven't had my turn yet.


Grief is bad enough without guilt.


Tonight's wave has ebbed. I'm sitting here on the still-damp beach of memory, too awake to sleep, too sleepy to do anything but ramble.


And maybe read.


I'll go back to that for a while. I have a helicopter waiting to take me to Wyoming. I always liked Wyoming but I've never been in a helicopter.


Good night everyone. Thanks for listening to me ramble.



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