What I’m Really Reading
In theory I’m still reading many of the books that were on my earlier lists. But in truth I’m reading only the following:
BLEAK HOUSE (1852), by Charles Dickens, because I was inspired by the Masterpiece Theater production that has been on PBS of late.
THE WAY WE LIVE NOW (1875), by Anthony Trollope, because I’m always reading one Trollope novel or other and Wilhelm and I just watched the TV adaptation of this extraordinary book, arguably Trollope’s best.
FULL DARK HOUSE (2003), by Christopher Fowler, a mystery taking place in London during WW II. Recommended by Sarah, to whom I’m grateful. It’s very good.
(It's snowing in Spokane as I write this. Everything is white. What a lovely spring surprise. I really do love snow.)