and you get your hands on a copy of Neil Gaiman's the Graveyard Book, and well, that's that day wiped out. The book is a delight, an absolute delight, the most comfort of comfort reads with just enough sting to it - well, more than enough sting because, as in most of Gaiman's fiction, it's wrapped around a moment of terrible brutality, that is dealt with quickly*, but resonates throughout the whole novel so that the stakes (even when we're not quite sure exactly what they are) are always high.
Like I said to Angela Slatter:* It was very sweet and sad, like coming to the end of a block of chocolate that you'd convinced yourself was going to last forever, even though you knew it wasn't.
Go out and buy yourself a copy.
While, I'm being all bossy, check out Chris Currie's blog Furious Horses. Chris is a writer that is going to go a long way***. His work is at once tender and ridiculous and all things in between, which is to say very good. And every day there is a new story up, and if I was half as fecund, I'd be very pleased indeed.
So, I better get back to that Novella
*I'm in such a name droppy mood today. Well, she's such a great writer, and if you haven't read her wonderful story the Jacaranda Wife in Dreaming Again, then you should go out and buy yourself a copy now, even if it means missing out on a couple of meals.
**Anansi Boys had a similar moment, that, unexpectedly, turned my stomach, and happened at about midpoint, this one starts with it, well, the immediate aftermath.
***How condescending is that, but give a jealous older writer his comforts, eh.