Monday, October 31, 2016

At Bertram's Hotel, Agatha Christie (1965)

This marks my first exposure to Miss Marple. Christie had to have been 74 or 75 years old when she wrote this, so it's fitting that her protagonist is a retired widow who'll remind you of a quaint but savvy grandmother. In my case, she reminds me vaguely of an aunt from my youth – a retired marm with silver hair in a bun and eyes and wit as sharp as aged cheddar. After the first couple of chapters, I thought I'd made a mistake grabbing this book. Miss Marple isn't as engaging to me as, say, Doyle's Sherlock Holmes or Christie's Hercule Poirot, but it got better fast, though with far more dialogue than narrative. Which is fine but not my preference. Four out of five stars. G

Sunday, October 30, 2016

The Cat Who Played Post Office, Lillian Jackson Braun (1987)

A thoroughly well written, entertaining murder mystery, with quirky characters and enigmatic cats to boot. As a side note, I recently bought three books at Barnes & Noble. Cost me thirty-five bucks. When the cashier asked me if I wanted to spend another ten bucks to become a card carrying member and get 10% off future purchases, I declined, saying I read too much to buy books brand new and that most of what I read comes from either the used bookstore or the local library. Which is why I've stopped reading The Cat Who... series in the order these books were published. Not deliberately. I just can't always find what I'm looking for at the latter two spots. And that's fine. It's not as if I'm missing out on crucial info if I skip books five and six and jump to book seven. Each novel is self-contained. It's just that sometimes it's nice to follow the writer's development or at least the protagonist's development. No biggie, though. Had to do the same with Agatha Christie's Hercule Poirot series. Partly because I prefer the large print books. They're easier on the eyes. Hence I can read them faster. Five out of five stars. Rated G

How Learning a New Language Improves One’s Life, and other Trivia

Some things are inexplicable. For example, my desire to teach myself a second language at age fifty-two. And what, pray tell, was that secon...