I’ve finished The Extraordinary Journey of the Fakir Who Got Trapped in an IKEA Wardrobe. While I appreciated the writing and get the immigration policy critique involved, the plot felt extremely contrived. And frankly, I didn’t buy that the small time con man was a “better” man in the end. Just relocated and better off financially.
After finish a book lately, I’ve seldom felt an urge to pick up the next book. Right now, however, that is not a problem. Not only do I still have Kearsley’s The Splendour Falls borrowed from the library, but no fewer than three new books have arrived for my delectation.
Frank Turner’s The Road Beneath My Feet – which, well, I might have to put England Keep My Bones on repeat.
Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s North to the Orient – ordered after the Air & Space Museum tour.
And Exploring Calvin & Hobbes: An Exhibition Catalogue – because Calvin & Hobbes.
Possibly I should read North to the Orient first, since I’ve promised to pass it on to others who were on the A&SM tour.