Saturday, May 02, 2015
Writing a novel is like preparing a Thanksgiving dinner. Hours and days of work to have it read in a tiny, tiny portion of the time it took to write it.
My housemate and I are both reading addicts. Although we have different tastes in books, there's much overlap.
There are certain writers that we always share. Jodi Picoult is one of them. Her genre is misery lit, but that doesn't stop us from reading her.
I found a copy of Nineteen Minutes at the library sale of used books. Sorry Jodi that you don't get a royalty.
I didn't have time to finish it before I left Geneva. I finished it a half hour after getting to Argelès. It is now in my suitcase for the return trip in early May.
Hope it likes all that traveling. I know my housemate will enjoy reading it.
Posted by DL NELSON at 6:27 AM