Bookends

I have set aside three – count ‘em, three! — books that I was reading. Usually I don’t feel too bad doing this to one book, but three! That feels almost disrespectful. Nevertheless, when I’ve read a few chapters, taking plenty of time to get into the story, and don't much care what happens to any of the characters, there is no reason to feel guilty.

I did finish A Bad Time for Sorry, but only by skimming through to the end. It started out well, with a protagonist who “tuned in” violently abusive men in a hired vigilante way, a different premise than any I’ve ever read, but before the end it was overwritten or something. There was too much description of weaponry and feminine pulchritude and lusting after a certain male character, and I lost interest.

Made my way through quite a bit of The Orchardist, but … lost interest. Jumped to the last chapter to satisfy my curiosity. It never happened. I might well have missed what I was looking for somewhere in the middle, so just might take one last look.

The Devil You Know … had to force myself to read past the second chapter. Skimmed a bit more, but … nah. Its author was interviewed on The Next Chapter on CBC radio, and this show always manages to make every book sound interesting (that's what it's all about, right?), but half the time when I get the books they've discussed, I'm sorely disappointed. 

Wild Rose? Well, I won’t return it to the library just yet. We shall see.

All this just to say that I may write about what I'm reading, but these are not necessarily recommendations.

***

Joan is about to head out the door to take Ben to his school, and my niece Jordan is soon ready to catch her bus, and Karen and I are still in our pyjamas, drinking coffee. We have a couple hours before we have to drive across the city to the airport. We'll be back in Saskatoon at suppertime and plan to take Cathy with us to have a meal at the restaurant where Karen's daughter works. She's got the night off and will join us. We'll spend the night at Cathy's, not have any reason to hurry in the morning, Karen will have time to do a little shopping before we leave the city, and with luck we'll be back home before dark, before moose and deer become a danger on the roads, and with an evening to unwind before the routines start up the next day.

There has been some goodnatured "complaining" (isn't it nice to be wanted?) about the trip being so short -- only two nights. When I booked the tickets I chose the most leisurely hours of departure that were reasonable so that there would be no 6 a.m. morning flights or midnight arrivals, and no getting home late the night before we have to get up and go to work the next day. For once I'd like to not feel exhausted when I get home after a trip. So we shall see.

It's a lot of money to spend for only two nights but it's just as much to spend for four nights, y'know? Somehow I don't feel that more time is necessarily better. We've had a good visit and two mornings when we haven't had to rush around to get out the door. For me, quality is far more important than quantity. It will still be hard to part with Joan when she drops us at the airport this morning, knowing we may not see her for another year; I sure hated to see Dad walk out the door last night after supper. But it wouldn't be any easier after four nights either.