I read lots today. Didn’t really have all that much energy even though the sun was out in full force. Sat outside long enough to give myself the tiniest sunburn.

I finished off Kage Baker’s ‘Mendoza in Hollywood’, which, true to form was very good. I also reread ‘Taming the Tiger Within’ by Thich Nhat Hanh, which always gives me something to think about. Also I poked through the 17th ‘The Years Best Fantasy and Horror’ Anthology of Ellen Datlow and Terri Windling fame, which I got for 6 bucks a couple of weeks ago. (bad! and here I said I wasn’t going to buy any books. But it was such a deal, 6 where the thing is usually 30? How could any self-respecting book addict pass that up? hrm?) I had to put that down though after one of the stories made me cry. (It’s called ‘At the Mouth of the River of Bees’ by Kij Johnson.)

Then I tried to go back to ‘Across the Face of the World’ by Russel Kirkpatrick, but I couldn’t get past my disappointment in the preachiness of the last two chapters. If I wanted preachiness I’d go and read the Narnia series again. I can’t quite yet suspend my annoyance to read the rest of the book. But I will read it. I can’t not, I want to know what happens to Leith. Right now he’s a detestable character, for the simple fact that he’s quite self-absorbed. I’m curious to see how Mr. Kirkpatrick redeems him for his audience. Also, by chapter ten there are already 9 characters travelling together, and they’re starting to blur together. If it were me I’d hack at least 3 of them out because they seem to be parts of other characters. I want to see if they have important roles to play or not. Having that many critters is hard – even Tolkien had a tough time now and then – and he certainly didn’t dump them all on us in the first ten chapters. Anyway. I reserve final judgment until after I’ve finished the thing.

Instead I picked up ‘Flesh and Spirit’ by Carol Berg. I read her ‘Song of the Beast’ in a single sitting, and so far I have high hopes for this one since it seems to have the same kind of readability as her last. Besides, it’s one of those large paperbacks, like books that should have been hardcover, but aren’t that I’ve been wanting to read for a bit. Is it odd to crave a certain kind of book in your hands? The weight of the paper, the way it falls open over your hands? If it is, I guess I’m odd. =P

Now, I don’t suppose anyone can recommend a book that’s a standalone novel, could they? Everything I seem to pick up these days is part of a series.

listening to: the Chauffeur – Kirsty Hawkshaw
feeling: more tired than I should be
eating: sushi
word count: just this