more stuff I read on the bus

Last week I loaded up on books for the trip to (Thursday) and from (Sunday) NYC to visit CS, S, and R.  I had two paperbacks in my purse for the trip there, and two in the suitcase for the way back, since last time I only figured a book per trip and was stuck staring out the window most of the way, both ways. 
What I did not take into account was that I would be out drinking until almost 2 Wednesday night/Thursday morning, then packing until after 3, and then getting up at 6:30 a.m. after some three hours of sleep.  My head was spinning in the shower (seriously, why do I think tequila shots on a weeknight are a good idea?), but I got myself to South Station by 8, for my 8:30 bus, and promptly curled up in the corner and tried to sleep.  I never quite fell asleep, but I rested as much as possible which meant I only got through half of the first book I brought with me (and intended to leave with R), The Accidental Mother by Rowan Coleman.  It was actually surprisingly enjoyable, although wicked, wicked predictable.  But it was sweet, and funny at times, and Coleman does a nice job with the characters of the children (3 and 6 year old girls).  There was more heft to the book than there could have been, and it passed the time well, although I think the second half was stronger than the first.  Although that could also have been because I was really resenting being awake when I first started - I was exhausted and dehydrated and queasy, and definitely more than a bit pissy and ready to see / find any flaw in the story, characters, or writing.  For a book I really thought was kind of dumb at first (I only bought it because it was on sale for under $5 at Barnes and Noble, and I figured it would be fluff for the ride), I might look for the sequel (The Accidental Family), and see what happens to the characters.



I will not, on the other hand, be looking for the "sequel" to the book I started on the ride home on Sunday, after I finished The Accidental Mother.  At some point this spring, I must have seen or heard of the book A Corpse at St. Andrews (or, apparently, A Corpse at St. Andrew's Chapel - not a good sign I just read the book and don't know the name), because I found it scribbled on a scrap of paper.  It turns out that it's actually "the second chronicle of Hugh de Singleton, surgeon" and I went looking to see if the first book in the series was available used at the Harvard Bookstore on Wednesday, before I left, so I could read them in order.  I am so glad they didn't have it, because it would have been a waste of money.  Corpse wasn't awful, but I certainly didn't feel like I was missing anything by not having read the first book, and that's despite the fact that the author, Mel Starr, has a really annoying habit of making what are no doubt meant to be tantalizing references to past and future events & escapades in the main character's life, which read like blatant inducements to buy the other books.  The actual story was serviceable, but nothing about the writing or characters made me want to read anything else in the series, or by the author.  There was even a teaser chapter for the next book, and I didn't even bother to read it...just skipped straight on the the newest Maisie Dobbs book I finally got (long line of requests ahead of and after me, so I need to get cracking on it), yay!