(no subject)

Book 51: Till We Have Faces, CS Lewis. 309pp

I wasn't particularly thrilled with this one, both because I wasn't very comfortable with the setting and situation (mythology-related stories always sets me a little on edge - I feel like I'm reading about Satanism) and also because I found myself not really liking any of the characters at all.

I did finish it, although I could easily have set it aside without really caring much that I didn't find out what happened in the end. I guess I kept hoping it would get better.

Off to take stuff back to the library and, I hope, come home loaded with more.

(no subject)

I am, as of today, convinced that the book drop slots provided by the library are actually NOT for books, but are actually self-amputation encouragement devices.

Yes, I hurt my middle finger... again.

FAIL.

However, I did bring home three more Bill Bryson books, found a WWII ration book in a box of songbooks from Dan's grandma, and am the happy Keeper of the Army Uniform belonging to Dan's grandpa.

WIN.