Wednesday, June 22, 2005


Okay, so The Lake of Dead Languages was a good book, but not better than The Secret History. About halfway through I knew exactly who the villain was and then had to wait for the plot to unfold, which wasn't as fun as being totally surprised and mesmerized for the first half. And then the ending was corny, corny, Scooby-Doo predictable, happily ever after. Gross.


Blogger What Now? said...

Apropos of nothing in this post, but I wanted to leave a note to say that I just found your blog and will now be a regular reader. I wish I could say that I'd found a kindred spirit, except that I'm totally un-diva-ish, sadly, and therefore shan't claim kinship. I did have a cat named Bette Davis, however.

10:05 PM  
Blogger Margo, darling said...

I'm guessing there's a story to naming the cat Bette Davis, though, right? I'm delighted to have you as a reader. I'll be gone for two weeks, but check back then for dish about the totally un-diva-ish world of rural New Hampshire. Not that there haven't been New England divas--such as Bette, herself.

11:45 PM  

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