Book Of Dreams

It's World Book Day 2011, and what a lovely afternoon for sitting by the window and enjoying a good story.

I may be shattering a few illusions here, for those of you who think my taste in literature must be impeccably high, but I actually read a hell of a lot of trashy pulp. I'm all for intellectual novels that ask questions about the human condition and suchlike, but when I want to unwind, I'd much rather read about ghosts, or cowboys, or pirates, or maybe even all three at once. I usually draw the line at vampires, but on my mother's insistence, I've borrowed this particular vamp novel, because it's one of her favourites. It's by George R. R. Martin, and it's called Fevre Dream.

Fair play to my mum, it's actually a very well-written and tightly-plotted novel. It's set in 1857 aboard a steamboat on the Mississippi River, and it evokes that time and place so completely and effortlessly that you can happily get lost in it on a sunny day like today. Now if you'll be excusin' me, I'm powerful fixin' to read on another three-four chapters before night comes a-callin'.

P.S. I'll be off to Carlisle tomorrow for a couple of days, so things may go a little quiet on here. Never fear, I'll be back blipping (and indeed, backblipping) on Sunday. See you then.