[guessing at the star rating / mining my old FB notes now that they are almost impossible to find]

started this, and Sweetness At the Bottom of the Pie, with high hopes, now skimming quickly to be finished with them before book club dates.

and now i'm realizing that the momentum of reading belongs to good books. i was clipping along at a great pace until i hit a crappy book. or 2. or 3. (i'm remembering i read a dissatisfying non fiction opinion book after 'nightbird' too. that's when my reading habits fizzled.)

and they are not disastrously bad books. i can get worked up about that and find thing to comment on, complain about. no, they are just...blehhhrch in a non specific way.

ok, one's got an ego, or at least the author does, that i can't readily swallow and the other is too quaint-murder-she-wrote over the top stuff. i can see where it would have appeal to middle age brits but that's not me.