Book book, read it, read it
Two days into a five-week pilgrimage to far North Queensland and back, I ran out of suitable reading material. I’d rapidly consumed two of the three crime thrillers acquired for the journey and gave up on the Jonathan Kellerman when the body count reached four in the first dozen pages. She Who Reads Literature meanwhile snaffled the collection of short stories by Annie Proulx I borrowed from the library. When I discover a new writer,…
