I can go for months without finishing a single novel, then read two or seven in a week and a half. I am not sure why my brain operates that way, but all my spare waking moments of late have involved reading (which is particularly great as I am running a half-marathon in Toronto on Sunday and have gone running exactly once in the last three weeks). I’ve read the Wool omnibus, How I Live Now and most of Shift in the last five days.
Y’know, in spite of today’s publication deadline at work.
They aren’t even the Best Ever books, but they are gripping and pushing the right (post-apocalyptic buttons) right now.
Anyway, all that to say that this entry is preeeetty lame, because I’d rather be reading (or sleeping – just felt the wine kick in), and because my internet is all wonky this evening.
So, instead, rejoice in one enjoyable asshole triumphing over another.