Egyptian, Tilings from Historical Sources
Attempted last night to finish reading The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters by Gordon Dahlquist but finally gave it up. More than three-quarters through and I realized I didn’t care what happened to the characters or about the story. I began this book in a fine dander of anticipation and enjoyment but eventually became lost in the maze of meandering prose and a cartoonish plot that was all a series of capture, near-capture, ceaseless narrow escapes, and a ponderous mid-section that did me in. I put it down several times over the course of more than a year and picked it up after long intervals–guilting myself into continuing to read it because I’d already read so much so far, hadn’t I? So why not go ahead and finish it? No thanks. Too bad it turned out not to be my cup of tea afterall. I’m done wearing out my near-sighted eyes on it and greatly relieved too.
I also decided Laurell K. Hamilton’s Blood Noir was not worth any more of my time either. Gosh; never thought I’d see the day when Anita Blake bored me.
Loose Daddy is close to shore, but I’m worried that it is starting to founder on hidden shoals.
Sweet Taboo is going slowly at a one sentence at a time pace.