That’s a relief. I was getting quite worried. She spent most of the weekend sleeping or looking like a zombie, eating only what Sam could coax into her, and using heating pads. I’m starting to think that we should accept the offer to refer her to a pain management doctor, if only to have something she can take during a flare.
So I read the latest Anita Blake novel, Blood Noir. I’m not sure why I continue to read these. Honestly, Hamilton is a decent writer. I enjoy her prose. She just needs to go back to plot school! Or maybe work with a co-writer who is strong on plot, but not relationships or descriptions?
There was no plot at all for the first few hundred pages of the book. When something involving a previous “big bad” did happen, it was nothing but an inconvenience, and over within an hour of Anita finding out about it. Whoopee. There was a crisis and danger, of course, but I found them anticlimactic after the villains Anita has vanquished in the past.
There was, of course, lots of sex. This one could have been called, “Anita gets a fuck buddy.”
Oh well. On to Sunshine by Robin McKinley. Someone recommended it to me years ago, and I happened to see McKinley’s name somewhere and remembered it. I don’t think that I’ve read any of her novels before. Short stories, maybe.