I'm reading a mystery

and an ancient wodehouse and a historical from the 80s and I have absolutely nothing to say about any of them. Usually I'd have an opinion. . . ok, wait, I do. The mystery, by Julia Spencer-Fleming is the sixth in a series and I haven't read any of the others. I'm getting back story in a perfectly natural way, no big info dumps. People who can write series like that -- readers can pick up any book and not feel lost -- those writers deserve some kind of prize. I'd like to fall back asleep and the best way for that might be to mentally design this prize. Maybe a stretch of road would work.



I've gotten a couple of letters about my bad reviews and I want to buy those note-writing people lunch or at least a cuppa. (One reader pointed out that the book seems to promise some hot bro on bro sex, or at least tension, and those guys barely hug.) I also want to beg them to leave reviews, but I have some dignity.



No, not dignity--let's call it cowardice. It is possible to keep getting bad reviews after all. Whimper.