I can't seem to edit the below post (to give it a title) without losing the image. That's not normal. S'not. S'not normal.
Um. Today at work I watched Looney Tunes with Ivy, sat in the bathroom while she played in the shower, and read on the couch while she napped beside me. I'm reading The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins, because I'm masochistic. The plot moves incredibly slowly, and the characters are all deeply frustrating for one reason or another, the way characters in victorian murder mysteries usually are. Even the Sherlock-esque dectective, who supposedly sees to the heart of all, never voices any of his suspicions. He just keeps having them. And everyone's always taking a turn in the garden. I'm sick of the stupid garden.
It's pretty good though.
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3 comments:
well i'll save you the trouble of finishing - betteredge did it. no, j/k! but seriously, how can you not love the moonstone? i have read it three times. vanity fair - now there's a slow moving plot. i had to skip entire chunks just to get to the good parts.
Betteredge, that sly dog. He is, after all, the butler. And the butler always did it.
I do like The Moonstone, really. I actually wrote that paragraph in my post using the word "comforting" instead of "frustrating". Then I read over it and it didn't make any sense.
I didn't expect it to be as good as The Woman in White, because every used book store I go to has a dozen untouched copies of The Moonstone in stock. Usually a bad sign. But I think I actually prefer it. All it needs is a devilish Italian count.
oh ok good i'm glad you like it! i've never read the woman in white. i should check it out from the libarary.
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