My mom is in town from Connecticut this week. She's a big reader, like me...or, perhaps it would be more accurate to say that like her, I'm a big reader. Right now she's reading Karin Slaughter's Fractured. She didn't bother to bring any other books with her, because she knew I'd set her up; I placed Stephen Jay Schwartz's Boulevard, Starvation Lake by Brian Gruley, Laura Lippman's latest, I'd Know You Anywhere, and The Last Child by John Hart on her bedside table.
I, myself, am having trouble concentrating so far this week...even on books (yikes!). I started Spook Country, by William Gibson, but although I was enjoying it, and was quite impressed by it as well, it required a bit too much on the intellectual front from me. So I picked up a Ridley Pearson, The Art of Deception. Not quite the piece of literature that the Gibson is, but far easier to consume in small bites between showing Mom the glories that constitute the South Bay area.
Wish me luck (with the reading, not with the mom...she's easy).
1 month ago