It was almost impossible to believe that less than three hours ago, at Moonrakers, Robert Falcon had been asking me to marry him. Now I was here with Nick Sabine, my husband, a man I scarcely knew, except for those few hours we had spent together in Chengfu prison.
Just the sort of thing I'd expect to find in a book with a cover proclaiming it a novel of romantic suspense. Embarrassing to tote about. But neither could I bear to set it down. Moonraker's Bride was a fun read, no doubt about it. But that was a bit of luck. A lot of the time, I will track down a book only to find that it is not my thing. I can walk away without finishing. Life is short, I remind myself, and I move on.
No less engaging but definitely harder to read is Dam Nation, a collection of articles dealing with water policy and management. With three editors maybe no one was powerful enough to say, "Hmm, a paperback that's wider than it is tall? Let's not. And how about we use a readable font size while we're at it? Old eyes may wish to peruse this."
Victoria and I are on Part 3 of Ian Fleming's Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, which is not very much like the movie. "We", of course, means I am reading while she listens. She herself is working her way through the Bob books. She's on box two and I'm still waiting for things to get interesting. Due to the authors' devotion to phonemic awareness, these books are frustratingly stunted. "Bob! Mac! Pam!" I end up shouting, "Is all so fat, big, hot and mad? Get up! Find a plot! Oh dear god, not another dog with a hat. Argh!"