Good Reads

A dear friend gave me this book over Christmas.
I think buying a book for a friend can be just as much of a risk as maybe buying them jeans or underwear.
You have to be pretty confident in the fit.
But the reward is great, and I loved this! Masterfully written by a woman younger than me (28!)*   It's a mystery, or string of mysteries, set in New Zealand during the gold rush. The many single threads of this story weave in and out for some 800 pages, with the picture still forming a whole up until the very last page.
I just finished it last night. And while finishing a big ol' book like this usually follows with a few days of stewing and pouting. (The lingering resentment of being deported.)
I'm in the happy situation of being able to climb out of one book -have a peek around- and then let myself tumble into the next. I keep hearing amazing things about the Goldfinch.
Good reads are such a luxury!


*Agh! What have I done lately? Jokes, I know exactly what I've been doing, and I won't pretend to sneeze on the process of rearing children. But still, what a wonderful accomplishment to have a Man Booker Prize before 30!