I didn't post yesterday because it was Father's Day, so it seems apt to put up a poem from a father's point of view today, from Niall Campbell's tender and personal collection, Noctuary.
The Trespasser, Tana French
I'd been saving this one up for the summer holidays when I have time to indulge it, not sneaking a half-hour read in late at night when I should be sleeping. I also wanted to head back to the beginning of the series, having started with The Secret Place, and catch up chronologically. And I… Continue reading The Trespasser, Tana French
The Road, Cormac McCarthy
What's the bravest thing you ever did? He spat into the road a bloody phlegm. Getting up this morning, he said. Yup. That is how bleak the world of this book is. Tragically, lyrically and devastatingly bleak, but bleak nonetheless. Nothing grows. Nothing lives. The world contains nothing of beauty or of value and very… Continue reading The Road, Cormac McCarthy
Neil Gaiman and mothers
What is it with Neil Gaiman and mothers? I am in the midst of listening to the wonderful The Ocean at the End of the Lane - personally, I think that this book is going to be a clear favourite from Gaiman who is already one of my favourite authors! - read by Gaiman himself.… Continue reading Neil Gaiman and mothers
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