Book Struck

I am feeling a bit discombobulated. You see, I just finished quite a long book. And, in fact, a rather smutty book. I’ll give you a proper review when I am not trying to get to bed (for actual honest to bob Sleep, yo). But I’ll just say, I am embarrassed to admit how much I enjoyed the book, smut aside. Or included. I don’t care. It was generally a good book. However, I am left a little overwhelmed by the headiness the story took on, especially towards the end. The book was Outlander, by Diana Gabaldon. Now that it’s done, I can finally check another enormous novel off my To Read list – a huge feat, as I’ve said it before, because I am such a slow reader. A book needs to hook me quite quickly if it expects me to get more than a chapter or two into it.

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I bought the little book in Greenwich in 1999 and only remembered it when I was nearly finished reading the larger one.

Shell shocked from both the end of such a large endeavor and the manner in which things were tidied up in the story, I am in need of a bit of a reorientation. I am finding it, of course, in the leaves of my favourite tomb, where I can neutralize my brain, with the rereading of the best ever book: Un Lun Dun by China Mieville. The most perfect adventures of two twelve year olds in between parallel, yet distinctly different versions of London somehow feels much more real, realistic, and comforting, than the misadventures of Clair and Jamie Fraser. 

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‘I don’t believe the presence of moisture in the air is sufficient reason to overturn society’s usual sensible taboo against wielding spiked clubs at eye level.’ Chapter 3 ~ The Visiting Smoke

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