The Books I've Read In May

May has been a good month when it comes to reading -- well, mostly. I managed to read a bunch of books, and some of them were really good. So, without further delay, here they are, in the order in which I've read them.

Irbis by Aleksandar Žiljak. This novel sort of reminded me of Escape from L.A. It's fast-paced, full of action, there's the "do or die in horrible pain" catch, and the ending is just as vicious, although more optimistic. Above all, it's fun, and well worth a read. And the cover is adorable (you also get to see what an irbis is). The link leads to his blog, which is usually in Croatian, but there are posts in English too.

Ogledalo za vampira (A Mirror for a Vampire) by Adrijan Sarajlija. It's the first novel by a Serbian author who already had a pretty good story collection. It combines magical realism, horror, science fiction (sort of), and the structure is more of an acid trip (not that I have a first-hand experience of an acid trip) than of a novel. An interesting and a fun read, although some parts of it are not for those with a weak stomach.

Intrusion by Ken MacLeod. It's a creepy novel about Hope Morrison who lives in near future and refuses to take The Fix, a pill which would remove many possible genetic defects from her unborn child. She has no particular reason for refusing to take it, other than the wish to be left alone with her body and her pregnancy. The world she lives in is not that of totalitarianism, on the contrary; it's a democratic Western country where there is a lot of care for everyone's safety -- which leads to very little personal freedom, and people fought for it to be that way in the name of democracy and safety and good life for everyone. For example, every woman of a child-bearing age must wear a monitor ring, which informs the authorities if she is drinking alcohol while pregnant or engaging in other activities which might damage her unborn child -- all for the safety of the children. Another example: the police won't beat you up, they'll torture you instead with heated sterile needles, so there's no infection,and when they're done with you, they'll give you the number of the service which helps people cope with the trauma. To make it short: it's what the world might look like if people give away too much of their personal freedom in exchange for "safety" and "common good".

The Executioness by Tobias S. Buckell. It goes together with The Alchemist by Paolo Bacigalupi -- and The Alchemist was considerably better in exploring the society which lives under the threat of a magical (and extremely difficult to destroy, and often lethal) bramble which grows every time someone casts a spell -- and spells are quite easy to cast. So, it is illegal to use magic, and those who do it anyway get executed, normally by executors, but The Executioness tells a story of a woman who picked up her father's axe after he got too sick to perform his duty. The story is an interesting read, although too naive at times.

Preko rijeke (Across the River) by Dalibor Perković. Another book by a Croatian author, this time a story collection, some of them award-winning. The horrible truth about Jesus Christ. Extraterrestrial aliens and the war in former Yugoslavia -- the aliens had nothing to do with the war, some of them just happened to be in the area and were conducting their business -- the aliens were not nice by any means, it's just that humans can be even worse than that. A humorous story involving a time-travel machine and the sexual life of a couple. A story about the relationships between a deity and the folks worshiping that deity. Some of it was serious, some was funny, and overall, quite a good read.

The Last Watch by Sergei Lukyanenko. It's the fourth book in the series, following what should have been a trilogy, and it's mostly of the what happened next kind -- and something always happens, doesn't it?

Blackbirds by Chuck Wendig. Fun idea. Well thought-out characters. Well thought-out plot. Well thought-out everything. Feels like it was rewritten too many times, though, so some life was sucked out of the book. Fun anyway, and worth reading. Will read the next one for sure.

Bullet by Laurell Hamilton, the 19th book in the series about Anita Blake. Skip the first part. Skip the last part, unless to see the ending. From the middle, read every fifth page. You'll miss nothing of importance, skip the sex scenes, and won't read every single thought Anita had. That way, the book is tolerable. Sort of. To give you an example: in the first 30 pages or so, we get to see what everyone is wearing, and we get to learn that even a 3-year-old (or a 5-year-old, the author can't remember how old that character is) knows that Anita has sex with just about everyone. Then there are some emotional problems, guys (particularly one of them) talking about emotional problems, you get to know which one of the guys can give another guy oral sex without choking even if it goes deep (you were dying to know that, didn't you?), and then there's a long sex scene (three guys, one woman, homosexual sex, heterosexual sex, BDSM), and when it's over, you see you've read about the third of the entire book. It doesn't get better. Oh, and you get to read every single thought Anita has. The oral sex talk was way way more interesting, even if you weren't interested in it at all.

Hit List by Laurell Hamilton, the 20th book in the same series.** spoiler alert ** Yet another book where you get to read every single thought of Anita Blake. Some things happen, too, some people get injured, folks we were previously told were superfastsuperstrongsuperkillers are suddenly sloppy, the villain we were previously told might be unkillable gets defeated without much difficulty, and we get to read inner monologue of Anita Blake. At least she's less annoying than she used to be, so we don't read about her having issues and having issues, but growing up a bit and having less issues than she used to. Yay. Not.







Have you read something interesting lately?

Keep the Introduction Short, Please

Recently I’ve  read a book which I’m not going to name here, because the problem I’ll talk about does not appear in this one book only. And the problem is: the introduction was way too long and way too boring.

The book is an anthology, and the subject is such that it should be a fun book and mostly a light read. There are two editors, and each one of them wrote an introduction. Each of the introductions goes on and on about what they liked to read when they were kids, and how much they liked it, and how they found some other likable stuff to read and watch, and how those various things could actually go pretty well together, and how much they liked all that, and... Each of the introductions was about 10 pages long. In both of them, the editors mostly talked about themselves and what they liked and how it led to this particular anthology, but failed to say much about the anthology itself.

It was pretty late at the time I was reading these introductions and I was tired, but couldn’t sleep because it was too darn hot. I doubt that it improved either my mood or my patience. Still, I find it difficult to imagine I’d enjoy reading them no matter the time and the weather.

I almost gave up on the entire book because of the introductions; it’s highly unlikely that’s what the editors tried to achieve, and it’s not like they’re new to the business. The only reason I didn’t give up on the book was that I expected the stories to entertain me quite a bit (sadly, it didn’t happen, the stories were, except for one, ineptly written, or childish, or too much down the anything goes alley, or all of it).

An introduction to an anthology, as far as I can tell, doesn’t need to be longer than 2 pages; if the editor or whoever wants to talk some more about certain details of the book, that can be put in the afterword and, also important, it should be interesting to read and to the point (there should also be a point). I don’t mind learning how a particular book came to be; what I do mind is reading meandering and long-winded introductions (or meandering and long-winded anything), unless it is done in such a way that it is really fun/interesting/informative to read. I don’t count every little thing you liked as a kid informative, sorry. I’m aware that I can just skip the introduction, but why putting in a book something so boring a reader would want to skip?

This was the first time that the introduction to a book made me want to give up on the entire thing (and not even because of something it said about the anthology!); normally I enjoy them. How do you feel about introductions? Do you skip them, or read them? Has an introduction ever made you want to give up on the book? 

Monday Fun: The Holy Sinner by Thomas Mann

*giggles*

One of the books I’ve recently read was The Holy Sinner by Thomas Mann. I kept giggling while reading it, or at least thinking of giggling.

Now, this is not a review. It’s more my impressions, and what made me giggle so much; there’s a bunch of spoilers too, so proceed at your own risk. Oh, and there’s religious matter, so if you’re easily offended, you might be offended by this too.

The story is told by a monk Clemens, in a somewhat old-fashioned way and in a sugary tone. He tells us of a brother and sister, twins, of noble birth, who loved each other very, very much. They loved each other so much that they were expecting a baby (so now you know how they loved each other). Realizing that they have a problem, they talked to their trusted advisor, who suggested that the brother went on a pilgrimage, while the sister would go to the advisor’s castle and have her baby there, in secrecy. Not knowing what else to do, they agreed.

The sister was oh so mourning being separated from her beloved brother (the sugary tone, remember?). She gave birth to a beautiful little boy, whom the advisor wrapped in expensive silk, placed him in a barrel, put lots of gold and a message on a plate in it, and left the barrel in the sea, to God’s mercy.

And so on, and so forth; the little boy grew up into a strong young man, Gregory, who helped a noble woman when her city was under siege, and married her, and had two daughters with her, only to discover he had married his own mother. And oh, they were so horrified, and so she went on to take care of cripples and such, while he went to become a hermit and to sit on a stone far away from the shore. Still the sugary tone.

And then some more things happened, and then Gregory became Pope Gregory.

And there’s the Children, don’t do this at home conclusion (don’t sin, things worked out for them in the end but they suffered a lot, don’t do it, kids).

Hilarious.

Now, I’m fully aware that there’s more to this book, that this is Thomas Mann trying to explore some really serious stuff like sin and evil and so on, but still, it’s hilarious, and if someone tells me Germans have no sense of humor, I’ll throw this book at him/her. Well, I won’t, because it’s my mother’s and I gave it back to her, but you know what I mean.

Have you read anything funny recently?

Put It Away, Will Ya?

Remove those darn animations if you want me to read it!

I've been looking through some blogs, and it's probably just my bad luck, but several blogs in a row had one of the most additions ever.

Animations.

I'm not talking about some discreet snow animation, or something else equally discreet and non-disruptive. I'm talking about very visible animations, such as big snowflakes falling over posts and making them difficult to read, or about those annoying Tweety wittwe biwds. You know, the Twitter bird which is supposed to make you follow the blog owner through Twitter. On some blogs, the darn blue bird was flying over posts, making them difficult to read. On some others, it was flying on the side, still annoying and distracting.

If I come to a blog to look at cute animations, then I expect some cute animations. But if I come to a blog to read it, and the blog owner made it difficult to read with obtrusive animations, well, guess what, I won't be straining my eyes to read it, nor will I be following.

So, if, by some chance, you want me to read your blog, do me some courtesy of making it possible for me to read without a bunch of distractions.

Thank you.

Rant over.

The Books I've Read In 2011

I tried to read 100 books in 2011, and failed; I only got to 78. Translating all day and recovering after the work is done seem to take their toll. Still, I did manage to read some really good books, and below are the seven that meant most to me, in no particular order. If I've written a review of the book, there's a link to it.

Let the Right One In by John Ajvide Lindquist.

Zoo City by Lauren Beukes. If you wish for a book with a strong African female protagonist, this one would be a great choice.

The Woman In the Dunes by Kobo Abe. A surreal Japanese novel about the erosion of the mind and the spirit and the morality, an unusual love story, and a story of an unexpected enlightenment.

Dreamsongs: A Retrospective by G.R.R. Martin. A retrospective of a famous writer, starting with his early, not-so-good works, and following his career. A huge book mostly filled with compelling stories. After reading it, I came to the conclusion that his A Song For Lya is still one of the most beautiful stories ever, and that, as much as I find A Song of Ice and Fire fun, his science fiction Sandkings are much, much better.

Master of the Day of Judgement by Leo Perutz. This novel is from 1923, and on the surface, it's your typical murder-in-the-locked-room story, with fantastical elements thrown in. It's also a masterfully written novel, with the flawless rhythm and the fantastical images which stay with you long after you've finished it.

Dying Inside, by Robert Silverberg.

Old Masters by Thomas Benrhard. The old misanthrope at his best -- and with the ending which will make you roar in laughter.

Overall, I did read some great books in the last year, I just hope I'll be able to read even more.

Have you read something great?

Dying Inside

Last night, while the darn flu bothered both me and SO, I have finished reading Dying Inside by Robert Silverberg. It's a science fiction novel -- but also a beautiful book for everyone, whether you're into science fiction or not.

David Selig is a middle-aged telepath who is slowly losing his gift, and he feels like he's dying on the inside. It's not that he ever used telepathy for anything great; quite the contrary, he was using it to achieve his selfish goals, and since his ability showed him his fellow human beings as usually small-minded and petty and full of flaws, he rarely managed to really care about anyone. And yet, he can't stand losing it, because, since his early childhood, he defined himself as a telepath, and has no idea what to do with himself after it goes away.

Don't get me wrong: David Selig is not an evil man. He's just as small-minded as all those people he despises -- and he's also having difficulties overcoming his own flaws, which made him unable to reach out to people, which in turn made him very lonely, and he's very, very scared.

The novel goes back and forth in time (but never in a way difficult to follow), so we get to see David as an adult who's losing his ability, as a young adult who meets another telepath for the first time, as a misfit kid who wants to murder his adopted baby sister, as a young man falling in love and ruining it, while he's trying to make peace with his sister... Some episodes are hilarious; others read like poetry; and, even though it's a novel about a telepath, even though it can be read as a study about telepathy at its various stages, it can also be read as a novel about any of us slowly losing that one thing we believe defines us and trying to cope with it -- any of us, whether it's you or someone you deeply care for.

A beautiful novel, and well worth a try even if you don't usually read science fiction.

Summer (What Summer?) Reading (A Bookpile Post)

The weather is killing me.

Summer? Seriously?

It's supposed to be summer, but you can see on the picture what it looks like these days. I can't properly wake up, my mind refuses to work, and on Twitter I read that my friends are experiencing similar problems, taking four hours just to wake up and then forgetting stuff at home, saying "Hi" to everyone and then going for a nap at 3 in the afternoon, and we're talking about young, healthy people here.

So, what I do mostly is read. Some time ago i went to the library again, and took seven books. The librarian was new, and didn't ask me whether I'd be able to read it; she seemed not to care one way or the other.

My new bookpile

The books in the pile, from the top to the bottom, are: Hunger by Knut Hamsun, Surfacing by Margaret Atwood, Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, The Castle by Franz Kafka, A Philosophy of Boredom by Lars Fr. H. Svendsen, Muleum by Erlend Loe, and Out Stealing Horses by Per Petterson. Hamsun, Svendsen, Loe and Petterson are Scandinavian authors, Kafka is German, Atwood is Canadian, and Adichie African. A wide variety, and so far a good pile of books.

The first one I read from the pile was Hunger, about a talented, but still unrecognized writer. Wait now, where have I seen that one before? Fante and Bukowski come to mind, but, while their protagonists were drinking and doing dumb things, the protagonist of Hunger is starving. Not being really hungry and managing to find something to eat, even if it's same old, same old; no, not eating for days, so he gets thinner and thinner, his hair falls off, he really, truly looks like a ruin. A very well written novel.

Then there was Out Stealing Horses, an old man coming to live in a distant part of Norway, wishing to be alone, to escape... Well, to escape himself, mostly. And there he remembers the summer when he was fifteen, had a friend he used to steal horses with (the "theft" was actually getting on neighbor's horses, riding them while imagining they were in the Wild West, and sending them back to the owner). As the novel progresses, the things become more serious. Something horrible, unforgivable happened to the friend right before they went to the horse theft. And "stealing horses" was a phrase used before, by the protagonist's father, during the resistance to the Nazis. And the protagonist's father and the friend's mother have a sort of a history together (no, not some cheap affair). And the protagonist, in his old days, meets someone he never expected nor wanted to meet again, and discovers it's actually a good thing.

With all this said, this short novel is quite easy to read, and gets you in its world pretty quickly.

After that, there was Muleum by Erlend Loe. The main character is 18-year-old Juliet from Norway who lost her entire family when a plane crashed. While she doesn't have to fight for physical existence - her family was rich, and she has lots of money - she has to find a reason to keep living, and she fails to do it. Juliet tries to kill herself, then travels the world, stays at the airports, hopes that the next plane she gets on will crash (and feels guilty because of all the other people who would die too), meets a Korean athletic star she likes... Although the subject is difficult, there's humor in the novel too, and there's some strength in this young woman as she seeks some sense after the family to whom the word "muleum" meant something is gone (one of the first words little Juliet spoke was "muleum", it was supposed to be "museum", but ever since then her family kept saying "muleum", it was like their family word). While what happened to Juliet is tragic, there's nothing pathetic in this novel, and it's quite an enjoyable read.

Then there was A Philosophy of Boredom. Svendsen writes in a clear, understandable style - you don't have to be a Philosophy major in order to understand his books. In this book, he explores the history of boredom (boredom as we know it today seems to be somewhat new), gives some examples in great literature about the consequences of boredom brought to the extreme, and, while he doesn't give an answer to the problem of boredom, he does give some suggestions.

Right now, I'm reading Surfacing. I'm still at the beginning, so all I can tell you is that it is about a woman who comes to Quebec to look for her father who just disappeared; she comes to an extremely, err, old-fashioned community (for example, a divorce is unimaginable there) she ran away from when she was younger, and isn't happy about it, but hey, her father disappeared, and she wants to know what happened.

Well, that would be it for now. And, for the end, and completely unrelated, here's a cat picture, because every blog needs one.

Every blog needs a cat picture.

Pirates, Zombies, Weird, Dreams and Songs and Castles (A Bookpile Post)

Pirates, Zombies, Voodoo, Secret History, Yay!

Even though I haven't been feeling very well, I kept reading, and I found some quite interesting books.

Dance Dance Dance by Haruki Murakami is the fourth book in the Rat tetralogy, and also the only book in the series translated into Serbian. Still, it wasn't too difficult to follow it, once I just accepted that there was some mysterious stuff happening in the previous books, and then there was some mysterious stuff happening in the Dance Dance Dance. Basically, it was about a one man's attempt to pull himself (and his life) together.

Then there was On Stranger Tides by Tim Powers; you can see the cover of the Serbian edition, done by Zeljko Pahek. The idea behind this book is fun: pirates, zombies, voodoo, loa, Blackbeard, Fountain of Youth, magic, adventures... In his usual manner, Powers writes a secret history, implementing magical events and explanations into things which really happened. The way Powers does it, everything has a logical explanation (involving voodoo and the rules of magic, but still logical), and everything fits. However, I have enjoyed other works by Powers more. One thing which annoyed me in On Stranger Tides were ship parts - yes, there are pirates, and ships, but if I'm going to read half a page about ship parts, and to read it every now and then, I'd like some explanation about those parts, what they do exactly, what's their function on the ship and so on. But no; even when we're told that the protagonist, Jack Shandy. has learned the difference between this and that type of rope, we're never told what the difference is. The other thing that annoyed me were the characters of Jack and Beth; Beth is a damsel in distress throughout the entire novel, she's there to be kidnapped and rescued and so on, she's pretty much helpless, and at the end she's the one saving the day; as for Jack, he used to be an accountant and a puppeteer, then was forced into becoming a pirate, and it turns out he's extremely talented with cannons (one previously undiscovered talent would be fine), and that he's extremely talented with all the sailor's work (we're not really told what sailor's work exactly involves, other than sailing and carrying heavy stuff, we're just told that Jack is talented in all of it).

Too bad, especially since I know that Powers can do so much better than this. The novel is still fun, but it could have been much better.

Then, Zombie by Joyce Carol Oates. It's based on a real serial killer, and it's about a dude who fantasizes about having his sex-slave, a lobotomized teenage boy who would adore him and do whatever he wants him to do, so he goes around, kidnaps teenage boys and tries to lobotomize them at home (children, don't lobotomize people at home! And no, he's not a surgeon, he just read about lobotomy in a book). The story is told from this dude's point of view. A quick read, and an interesting one - assuming you can stomach it.

What's left on my bookpile at the moment are the second and the third books of Dreamsongs by George R.R. Martin, a retrospective of his work; it's quite an enjoyable read; and Gormenghast, the second book in the Gormenghast trilogy by Mervin Peak, a fantasy (sort of) trilogy where the main character is actually the Gormenghast Castle.That's about 1600+ pages, and I expect them to be an enjoyable read.

You Can't Possibly Read That Much, the Librarian Said

You can't possibly read that much, the librarian said.

I spend most of the day translating, something I'm not quite used to do yet. When I finish it, I don't really have much strength to stare at the screen, either to watch videos, play games or read blogs or something. So i read books. The paper ones.

I went to the library on Tuesday, and took the charming pile of books you see on the picture. The librarian told me I couldn't possibly read all of them in twenty days. I told her I'd return the ones I've read and re-borrow those I haven't managed to read. She agreed to that.

Me and librarians. Librarians who don't get it: I read, I read a lot, and I read quickly. One would expect more from the librarians; then again, this same librarian called Twilight a beautiful, beautiful book at the time I took Twilight, some books by de Lilo and a book by Doris Lessing. A great American writer, a Nobel prize winner, and she tells me the Twilight (yes, the silly one with the sparkling vampires) is beautiful?

Oh well.

The books I took on Tuesday: Sputnik Sweetheart and Dance, Dance, Dance by Haruki Murakami, Twilight #2 and Twilight #3 by Stephenie Meyer, Woman in the Dunes by Kobo Abe and Ask the Dust by John Fante. The Twilight is to see what all the fuss is about, the rest of them is for pleasure. So far, I've read Woman in the Dunes and Sputnik Sweetheart, and I'm currently reading Ask the Dust.

Woman in the Dunes is a fascinating book about a Japanese man who goes to a remote village in the sand to look for some sand bugs, and the villagers capture him to help them remove the sand, because the erosion is the constant danger there, and the government does nothing to help. He is placed in a house in the hole in the sand with a thirty-year-old widow, to help her. He wants to escape, he's trying to find a way to get out of there, but at the same time, he's eroding, just like his surroundings. It's hard to describe this one; what goes on is bizarre, and the tone of the novel is surreal. A great read.

Sputnik Sweetheart is an unusual book -- which is quite usual for Murakami. It starts as a weird love triangle -- a young man is in love with his best friend, a pretty girl who likes him as a friend but falls in love with an older woman, and while the woman likes the girl, something weird happened to her fourteen years ago, she doesn't feel whole and cannot return love. And then things start to get weird -- I'm not going to spoil it for you here.

So far I've read about a third of the Ask the Dust. It's about the author's alter ego, a writer wannabe Arturo Bandini, who is trying to survive in LA and to finally sell some stories. Charles Bukowski loved this book, and so far it looks good (heh, us writers writing and reading about writers), so I guess I'll enjoy that one too.

And unless something prevents me, yes, I'll read them all within twenty days. And I've already noted the books I plan to borrow next.

In case you didn't notice: I'm a bookaholic. :)

Why Are You Reading It?

I'm currently reading the first book of Dreamsong by George R.R. Martin. It's a sample, sort of, of his early works. Today I've read his beautiful story A Song for Lya, and remembered the first time I've read it, years ago.

I was a University student then, and broke. Whenever I had some time, I went to the National Library. You couldn't take any books out of it, you had to read them there. So there I went, day after day, and read the books I couldn't find in other libraries and didn't have the money to purchase. A Song for Lya was published in a SF almanac called Monolit, in its first issue. All the Monolits were hundreds and hundreds of pages long, they had one novel and a dozen or more stories and sometimes some essays. The novel in this one was the Dreamsnake by Vonda McIntyre, and it had me daydreaming for days.

Not like A Song for Lya, though, for that one was a haunting story about loneliness and love and the price one might be willing to pay for love eternal, for never feeling lonely again - the price including a sort of a suicide, by being eaten by an alien parasite. It was haunting. It was beautiful, and sad, and although I didn't quite agree with Lya's choice, I could understand it. I could understand the pull of being one with everyone and loving them all and being loved by them all - I prefer my privacy and being just me, but I could understand how attractive such a complete union might be.

It was nice, going to the library and spending most of the day there, reading. Sometimes I'd see my screenplay writing professor there, and we'd nod to each other, and smile. There was no need to say anything. We were writers and writers go to libraries to do their research and to read books they couldn't otherwise find; there was no explanation needed.

There were interesting encounters, too. One time, there was a guy sitting in front of me. Maybe he noticed me because I was sitting right behind him; maybe because we were the only ones wearing black. Whatever the reason, he asked me what I was reading. I showed him the cover; at the time, it was The Republic by Plato.

He asked me why I was reading it.

I stared at him in disbelief.

Why was I reading Plato? Err, because it's a normal thing for an educated person to read Plato, sooner or later? Because my dramaturgy professor mentioned another book by Plato and I've read that one and was curious to read what was, maybe, his most famous work? So much of philosophy has something to do with Plato, how does one follow it without reading Plato?

What kind of question was that, why was I reading Plato? In my mind, that was simply a thing to do.

I told him I was reading it because I wanted to. He seemed puzzled. I got back to the book.

And now I wonder. Why are we reading it - whatever "it" may be, whether it's a philosophy book or a fluff novel or something dark and serious or...

My answer stays pretty much the same, no matter what book I'm reading. I'm reading it because I want to. I'm reading because at least something about the book made me curious. I'm reading it because that's what I do, I read a lot of books and enjoy doing it, they make me dream and give me whole new worlds and inspire me to read and write some more.

Why are you reading it?

On a side note: my mother found another dirt cheap old book, published in 1950. Two stories by Charles Dickens. I'll be reading that one soon. Just because.

Why Reading a Book?

Weird Sunday Ramblings

Today we moved clocks. They stole an hour from us. In the autumn, the forces of dark give us an hour; in the spring, the forces of light take an hour from us. Darn thieves.

The weather is weird. It's almost April, but in the morning it was almost as cold as the February, while in the February it was as warm as the April. Now, in the afternoon, it's getting warm, but it's hard to tell for how long. It's seems that the spring can't make her mind whether she's coming or not.

The eggs were weird this morning, too. Just look at the picture -- I didn't do anything unusual to them, promise.

The eggs were weird this morning.

The taste was pretty much the normal one, though. Am I weird for actually eating something that looks like that?

I was thinking about writing another book review today, but decided I needed to rest at least once in a while. So, there's the review I wrote yesterday, of Richard Matheson's Hell House. Written forty years ago, it still has its charm, and it's still haunting, just as a haunted house novel should be.

So, today I'm having some rest and reading a book (scroll a few posts down to see which one).