Is “sickbed literature” already a Thing? If it isn’t, it really needs to become a Thing.
I’ve been down for several days with a weird, nagging virus. (Remember when viruses used to mean either cough/cold/sore throat or gastro? Wasn’t life simpler, then?) However, the one bright side to this illness is that I’m still able to read. Here’s what I’ve been enjoying:
They are delightfully lighthearted, twisty, early-eighteenth-century spy romps. Wigs and lapdogs and Jacobites, ftw! I’m really looking forward to the next installment.
Tamar, by Mal Peet. (I didn’t mean to create a spy theme; it just happened.)
Set in Nazi-occupied Holland and 1990s England, Tamar is about wartime espionage and the long repercussions of secrecy. It’s making me think (in a really happy, productive way) about my own Second World War work-in-progress.
I’ve also read some dog-training books (we’re picking up Mac in under a week!), the most interesting and thoughtful of which are Plenty in Life is Free, by Kathy Sdao, and Train Your Dog Positively, by Victoria Stilwell.
Both have really helped me to envision the kind of relationship I’d like our family to cultivate with our first dog. I’m sure we’ll make mistakes, but it’s good to have a plan and an ideal going in.
And that’s it for me, this week. Have you read anything particularly fine or delightful or memorable recently?