I'm unusual, I think, among bloggers.
I don't have a book in me.
I'm not saying I don't enjoy writing (obviously), or that I don't enjoy (very much) people reading what I write (hint) but I've got no half written scraps of a novel, no idea, no characters bursting to be given life on the page. Fundamentally I've got no imagination. Not like that anyway.
So I'm always a little bit in awe of people who do. Who can wake up one morning and think: "Here's an idea for a book: what if someone bought a house in a country town and then found Anne Frank living in the attic?"
To take an example not entirely at random.
It's a fascinating book. An extraordinary book. A book that did make me laugh and didn't make me cry, rather to my surprise. A book that, if I think about it too much, I find very disturbing and frightening and really rather bleak, but which I recommend to you anyway.
Images, as usual, from Amazon. Thank you to them.
Is it sexism? Or is it just life?
4 hours ago