I have apparently now become the sort of person who occasionally reads mass market thrillers. Does this mean I am losing my youthful idealism? My mental energy? Or does it just mean I was in an airport and was facing flying back across the Atlantic for the fourth time in ten days? Anyway never mind, there it is: I’ve been reading a best seller.
It was kind of fun book, with a female central character who was, for once, not strong. Indeed, she is an unreliable narrator and that is where half the fun of the novel lies. Paula Hawkins is Zimbabwean, I’m proud to say, but she’s obviously lived in London:
We used to go to that pub all the time; I can’t remember why we stopped. I never liked it all that much, too many couples just the right side of 40 drinking too much and casting around for something better, wondering if they’d have the courage
.
Yes, that’s definitely a common London scene.. I won’t tell you too much else about the book. It’s a thriller so it’s hard not to give away spoilers. All I’ll let you know is that I read it, and I can’t decide what it means about me that I enjoyed it.
Arundel girl too 😉
Yes indeed. Though let me call out Doris Lessing and her Nobel for Convent 🙂