Tag: thought-ations

Carbon Copy Companion Reading II (or is everything a vague reflection of GEORGETTE HEYER??)

So was reading a book… perambulating through it really – when I was slowly overwhelmed by this feeling. Not all at once mind you – more like an encroaching tide of inevitability, coupled with a sense of ineluctable destiny. Like all roads would lead to this point, regardless of the path I took. No Robert Frost for me thank you. I was like: no, wait…there is something about this that is soo familiar… It was elusive (not unlike the scarlet pimpernel). It was liminal. It was Georgette Heyer. Again. It did make me wonder: do all roads lead to Georgette Heyer?

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About a Boy: Minuscule Thoughts on a Book…The Unfinished Garden, Barbara Claypole White

Musings, reflection, rumination, cogitation: more of this than an actual review – because I am just not sure how I feel about the whole book really. I discovered Barbara Claypole White’s The Unfinished Garden, whilst browsing.
It was in that nifty little section that triumphantly advises ‘people who liked your book also liked these’; meaning if YOU had the good taste to stumble upon this book, then surely you will like to purchase these OTHER books that people who may have BETTER taste then you liked too…

More Than You Dreamed (or how I fell back off the Gilles Seidel Love Wagon…)

Dear More Than You Dreamed.
I don’t know if you remember me, but I am the individual, who just last week, threw you at my wall and left you lying awkwardly and splayed in the corner of my lounge-room. I apologise sincerely for any injuries sustained in the course of this event, and I have since (you will note), picked you up, unbent your cover, generally un-smooshed you and placed you high on a shelf in my study. You may be wondering about the highness of the shelf, its relative distance from my lounge room, and its relative closeness to the two daddy long-legs that are inhabiting the corner of said study…

Valancy and the pile of MEH

I am sad to report and and even more loath to write it… BUT I think it may be possible that I have entered a wee doldrum of book reading.

Yes, like the muppets of treasure island ilk, I have sailed the distant oceans, traversed the waters and just when the I was avast ye-ing into the horizon, I encountered the doldrums…or in this case: the-enormous-pile-of-books-I-started-and-threw-down-again-in-frustration/hatred/annoyance/disdain.

It’s a big pile. My cats edge quietly around it, wondering if its precarious lean to left will end in a squished tail.