“Sometimes it pays to stay in bed in Monday, rather than spending the rest of the week debugging Monday's code.” - Dan Salomon

I started Jennifer Haigh’s Baker Towers last night, based on Gina’s recommendation. So far, so good. I like the characters; the strength and complexity of Rose especially appeals to me. I hope it continues to be as interesting.

I am also now enjoying Robyn Davidson’s Tracks; I still don’t really understand her dysfunctional relationship with Kurt, the man who teaches her to train camels; I think there must be more there than she is letting on, but otherwise I find myself caring very much about her animals and her adventure.

My little brother gave me A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian for Christmas two years ago, based solely on the title, I am guessing. We are half-Ukrainian and quite proud of it, although neither of us speaks a word. (Well, actually, I can say “I love you” in Ukrainian, but as you might imagine, it doesn’t come in particularly handy, well, ever.) I started it the other night and like it, although it reminds me very much of Lily Brett’s You Gotta Have Balls which I didn’t especially like.

I just requested The Shadow of the Wind from the library, despite my self-imposed moratorium on library books. I am trying to read down my TBR shelves, God knows there’s enough of them. But I’ve had my eye on Wind for ages now, and Lazy Cow’s recc sealed it for me. (And by the way, I am thrilled she is back! I missed you, LC!)

I generally help out at our church by doing whatever needs to be done, and yesterday there were six boxes of donated books that needed to be shelved for the book sale. So I did it. And – the privilege of working – I scored a signed (sixth) edition of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn!
And a lovely 1932 edition of Robert Louis Stevenson’s A Child’s Garden of Verses.
And an adorable little Russian Fairy Tales volume from Peter Pauper Press, which publishes some of the quirkiest and most interesting little books around. I own a copy of Comic Epitaphs published by them in 1960, and it's a rollicking read.

It was a good haul. All for the low low price of five dollars. I feel like I should give them more, but those are the posted prices. As long as I don’t turn around and try to sell them, I think I can live with my conscience.

And now we are off to visit the newly-remodeled neighborhood coffee shop, and sip some latte (me), and eat some sfogliatelle (all of us).

Happy Monday!