I’ve discovered a new author, and sheerly by chance. She really knows how to “spin a good yarn.” Previously, I would have said, “I can’t put the book down.” But that would be a half-truth now – I’m listening to an audio-disc of the book. And, I can’t stop playing it – at least for very long.
The book, I hate to say, is neither mind-stretching, nor clever, brilliant prose. It simply is a good story about women of a “certain age.” They’ve graduated from being subjects of “chick lit” to “matron lit” – a dastardly term just recently revealed to me.
Okay, I am concerned about the inroads age has made on my working memory. And I know that reading a novel such as this does nothing to stave off such disintegration of a most important body function. But I admit it – I’m ready for some fun. Who cares in what form it comes or by what term we call it!
(FYI – the author is Joan Medlicott.)