I had a hospital appointment this week, which gave me enough travel/waiting time to really get my teeth into the book I'd been semi-reading for the previous couple of weeks (at an average rate of about a page every two days). Ooh, it turned out to be a good un, a right old-fashioned ghost story that actually gave me scalp tremors towards the end, and that with the sound of Peppa Pig in my ears and summer sunlight streaming through my windows! I wish I'd been able to read it in the dark on a stormy night. Spoooooky.
This slender paperback takes my total number of books read this year up to a semi-respectable ten so far. I'm now trying to decide what to read next. My friend gave me a copy of Eleanor Catton's The Luminaries for my birthday and I had been wanting to read it for ages (being a great believer in Booker Prize winners and shortlistees) but the size of it and the tales of its slow complexity are intimidating me. If I start it now, will I still be reading it come Christmas? And will I even be able to carry it in my bag, a major consideration since the majority of my reading is done mid-commute these days? I think I'll decide tomorrow. It's that or a super-skinny Muriel Spark. What do you reckon?