Monday, the 2013 Boston Marathon, started out so wonderfully. It was a gorgeous day, and I was celebrating the amazing achievements of a lot of incredible athletes, professional and amateur, with a group of dear friends by the finish line. After everything went bad, I was still impressed, even in all the chaos, with how wonderfully people responded. But I've been shaken, and haven't read that much. And now I am glued to the TV, huddled up in the living room with my roommates, watching the manhunt unfold for the second of the two suspects. Basically, I don't have much to say.
I tried reading really light books, hoping for some escape. One was The House of Velvet and Glass by Katherine Howe, which was set in Boston (and on the Harvard campus) in 1915. It was fine, nothing special. Young woman has visions and/or dreams, there are flashbacks (in the book) to the sinking of the Titanic and China a generation before that; then it gets to the Lusitania, and I was pretty much checked out. Too many things exploding.
Next came Enchanting Lily by Anjali Banerjee which is about a cat that brings happiness to people's lives in a charming little island town in the Pacific Northwest. TOTAL fluff, but I had been saving it for a day when I really just needed to shut my brain off. Didn't really work.
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