Transit of Bob. It was A2’s birthday yesterday so she got a lot of lovely presents of things to drink, read and wear to the gym. Our family dinner was chicken, bacon and broccoli with A1’s cherry cake and perfect garden apple charlotte for afters. We scored 9 on the GSQ. Could have been worse. And we could have seen the lunar eclipse if it hadn’t been cloudy, and then raining. But it was clear in Lusaka (see right) — thanks, Guida!
A1 is reading The Hallmarked Man by Robert Galbraith, the latest biceps-straining volume in the Strike/Ellacott saga. Expensive, too — probably the first £30 mass-market novel (although it’s been heavily discounted).
It’s nominally a fiendishly complicated crime novel (and it is complicated — you may want to take notes), but RG is having great fun with the on-off relationship between the protagonists, which fortunately errs on the right side of soapiness; you can imagine her smirking at the readers’ reactions. The targets this time include Freemasonry and another stab at an evil Boris Johnson analogue, who really seems to appeal to writers (cf Mick Herron, MW Craven etc). Can’t imagine why… Criticism? There’s a bit too much phonetic transcription of accents, and the subplot about human trafficking gets somewhat lost in all the fol-de-rol. But a thoroughly enjoyable read nonetheless.
A2 is reading The Predicament by William Boyd, which was absolutely delightful. Thank you A1.
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An occasional journal