Ennui sounds so much better

Saying that I suffer from ennui sounds so much better than saying I’m bored. Bored by everything I’ve read lately, except the Billie Joe Armstrong interview in last week’s Rolling Stone.

I skimmed Calculated in Death. Meh. In need of proof reading. I guessed the why immediately and the who inside the firm and out. Also, real life interfered with some of the plot for me. And for some reason I thought Trueheart wasn’t a native New Yorker and his mom still lived wherever he’s from but that’s not so in this book. If I cared, I could dig through the boxes of books in the basement to doublecheck…but I don’t think I do care or at least not enough.

And Briggs’ Frost Burned felt poorly executed to me. And it included poor grammar, among other things.

I don’t know. Part of it is crankiness on my part: I’m busy with other things and thought they’d be reliable reads, and they turned out to be average at best.

I’m going to go spike my tea with bourbon and watch the Root/Hinds version of Persuasion, which will surely improve my mood.

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