Having finished The Third Rail, Michael Harvey’s latest – and not at all bad – Chicago crime novel, and not having grabbed enough from our own ancient shelves, we found it necessary to take advantage of the junior library’s very convenient Sunday hours (not in the cards for the ML, so don’t get your hopes up) where we ran into our very own personal fiction librarian. Sunday afternoons were when we used to gather the Wolves and motor over to Ambleside Lane to read worthy books to a blind friend, our personal fiction librarian being part of the group, so it was an appropriate time and place for the encounter. The PFL, worthy reader that she is was on her way to a Worthy Book Group, to which she graciously invited ourself, but we had a taste for more crime, so we went to the Popular Library (and who would go to the Unpopular Library?) where on the very first shelf we found The Stettin Station, a new David Downing book. David Downing slinks in the same dark alley as Alan Furst and is a perfectly acceptable substitute, and found further The Bricklayer, a first novel by an ex FBI agent named Noah Boyd which we tackled first and which we found to be absolutely first rate. We will see that it is ordered for the ML.
When we weren’t wallowing in crime or on weekend duty, we were slowly, ever so slowly, after a lifetime of Microsoftness, easing ourself into the attractive but perplexing Apple universe.
Does anyone know how to turn off “Shuffle” on an iTouch? The bloody thing has our operas completely #*%$ed up.