![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
The turning
Mar. 20th, 2010 05:17 pmThe past few days, it has been warmer inside than out. Not by much, but still, the season is turning. I love autumn.
A couple of years ago, the Goodyear Blimp spent a day floating above my office (well... the car yard across the road from my office), and that was pretty exciting. Imagine how exciting it would be if this came to visit.
To wrap up my week of leave, I finished my novel, which was written by 'the best living male crime writer in the English-speaking world'. That's faint praise, isn't it? Yes, sure he can tell a mystery story, but there are a lot of dead, female and other language speaking authors who can do better. But keep trying, little soldier! You'll get there.
Anyway, in this book was a twenty-something woman. Her twin brother died in a car accident when they were fifteen, which also left her with facial scarring. She kept his ashes in a vase in her bedroom.But! It turned out she was a serial killer and when they found out, the police (one of whom was her boyfriend) said, 'Oh, yes, well, we should have known since it was a bit weird keeping her dead brother's ashes in her bedroom'. Which seems a bit odd to me, because keeping a loved one's ashes in a vase in a private place doesn't strike me as particularly serial killer-y behaviour at all.
In summary: it was all right, but not as good as that Joan Crawford book from a few weeks ago. (If you're interested, newcomers to the f-list: that may be the greatest book ever written.)
A couple of years ago, the Goodyear Blimp spent a day floating above my office (well... the car yard across the road from my office), and that was pretty exciting. Imagine how exciting it would be if this came to visit.
To wrap up my week of leave, I finished my novel, which was written by 'the best living male crime writer in the English-speaking world'. That's faint praise, isn't it? Yes, sure he can tell a mystery story, but there are a lot of dead, female and other language speaking authors who can do better. But keep trying, little soldier! You'll get there.
Anyway, in this book was a twenty-something woman. Her twin brother died in a car accident when they were fifteen, which also left her with facial scarring. She kept his ashes in a vase in her bedroom.But! It turned out she was a serial killer and when they found out, the police (one of whom was her boyfriend) said, 'Oh, yes, well, we should have known since it was a bit weird keeping her dead brother's ashes in her bedroom'. Which seems a bit odd to me, because keeping a loved one's ashes in a vase in a private place doesn't strike me as particularly serial killer-y behaviour at all.
In summary: it was all right, but not as good as that Joan Crawford book from a few weeks ago. (If you're interested, newcomers to the f-list: that may be the greatest book ever written.)