The Coral Thief, by Rebecca Stott, was rather fun, but not as good as her earlier novel, Ghostwalk
My Name is Red, Orhan Pamuk, was awesome (not surprised), and I'm sorry it took me this long to get around to reading it. Very different from Snow
Mom started chemotherapy last Tuesday, and brought along two books by a woman (I assume??) named Nevada Barr. While Mom was napping I borrowed and started one of them, a mystery called Winter Study. Mom had read other books featuring the same heroine (Anna Pigeon, a National Park ranger who apparently solves mysteries fairly often, or at least is around as they play themselves out), and said they were good, whereas the other book was by the same author, but a standalone. And this one had wolves! And maybe a windigo. Obviously irresistible, so I read about a third at the hospital and then checked out the Widener copy.
Finally, last night I finished Buccaneers of the Caribbean: How Piracy Forged an Empire, by Jon Latimer, which was f---ing awesome, although a bit confusing in places (doesn't help that I'd normally read it before bed, so I'd be falling asleep and getting totally confused about which island port was being raided) and possibly a lazy editorial team (not to mention the whole were the buccaneers he is describing really pirates, per se, which I think - unless I totally misunderstood the book - they were not, so it's a problematic, if catchy, subtitle). Super interesting though, and accessible, if overly crammed with details. I would have appreciated a bit more big picture, but hey, it's his book, he can write it however he wants.
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