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"He was middle-aged..."
I like the deliberate vagueness in these books. He never states exact ages except for kids. Our mental image of a 43 or a 46 years old man is the same so he has a point. There is this androgynous character called Marion Briem who we don't know if it's male of female...

I wasn’t very taken with this book at first because it’s constructed the other way around. There are 2 parlor maids missing, probably gone to London. And based on this Lucy and Mayor Kurland decide there is a mystery behind it. And of course they find it. And it grows. And… we get a backwards mystery. (!!) Well written, well researched, people act and talk as they should in the 1800s. I liked it in the end.

Quite good. Another series to follow...

Only 4 stars because of the huuuuuuuge clifhanger :D

This is so cool :)

omg I didn't see that one coming!!!! lol
Unputdownable.

(remedy for a cold)
“Lie down on a bed that’s got two bedposts,” he always said. “Hang a hat on one post and reach for the bottle of booze you should always have on your bedside table. Keep drinking until you see a hat on both posts. I promise you, you’ll be right as rain the next day. And if you’re not, you won’t care.”

Craig Johnson is setting the bar quite high in the contemporary western misteries subgenre. I can see the similarities between Craddock and Longmire but it doesn't mean this book doesn't have its own strong personality. Very good.

This is quite good.

I don't remember book #1 being so violent...

I can see why boys like this series since every second scene is some kind of fight. I have no problems with novelists filling where there is no information (It seems there is close to nothing about Julius Ceasar childhood) but I don't see the point in making Marius his uncle on his mother side instead of the father's. So odd. And I somehow can't see JC as some kind of Casanova jumping out of the girls windows. 3+

The space adventures of Captain Smith, self centered idiot with a big *cough* ... personality, pilot Carveth, a runaway synthetic sex doll, and Suruk, alien, head collector. That was fun. My neck hurts from the couple times I fell asleep on it. And hey, where was the editor hiding? I kinda like a double space separating scenes. Picky I know. That's my name. Pickycat :P

‘Oh, I’m fine. My cousin’s got a dog. All he does is lie around and scratch himself.’
‘My cousin does that too,’ said Smith.

'I thought it was supposed to have a refit before we left.’
Carveth shrugged. ‘It has – of a sort. It’s got a new supralux engine fitted – a big one. We go twice the speed in half the style. Shame they couldn’t put a half-decent drinks machine in at the time.’
‘That’s odd.’
‘Well, yes, it is. In layman’s terms, this ship probably used to fly like a pig. Now it flies like a pig with a firework up its bum.'

‘Let’s go then, shall we?’
‘In a minute. First, as captain I need to tour the facilities.’
‘Second on the left. Don’t flush until we’re in orbit.’

Charlotte-Rose de la Force was a French novelist who lived in the XVII cent and wrote some novels but is best known for her retelling of the original Rapunzel tale. She is in her 40s when she is sent to a convent and there remembers her life and refuses to adapt while enchanted by the tale of Margherita, told by one of the nuns. This is a wonderful story full of real people from Tiziano to Moliere. Very recommended.

(The Queen) spent (...) lounging around drinking innumerable cups of hot chocolate, surrounded by her dwarves and her dogs. The latter were far better treated. Her dwarves slept on the floor outside her bedroom door and ate whatever scraps she thought to fling them. Her dogs had their own valets and carriage, and their own room in their palace, and often sat at the table with the Queen and ate from her plate.

Uhu. Interesting.
I had always thought Molière had died wearing yellow and so it says on the Spanish wiki pages. But the English version of that coat seems to be green...

I'm loving this.

I'm loving this.

My fingers were trembling so much I could hardly pluck out one of the tiny black shapes (patches). For a moment, I hesitated. Normally, I would press my patch to the corner of my mouth, à la coquette, or beside my eye, à la passionnée, but it was a convent I was about to sweep into, not a salon or ballroom. Carefully, I fixed the patch in the centre of my forehead, just under my hairline, à la majestueuse.

I give up. Victorian? Nobody in here act like a victorian. People enter in rooms and start asking questions or giving orders out of the blue. Conversations are clumsy. I really don't care how this ends.

Autobiographic book. Not my usual kind of book but I'm working on my family tree and this gentleman was my father's cousin. Trying to figure out how far a cousin... :0 Very interesting the part about the life in a farm in the 30s.

Unmarked carriage? As in the horse didn't have a plate hanging from the neck? My, my.
This is sooo bad. But I believe in giving a book a 30 pages chance...