One fresh read, and two stragglers from last month.
39. Asylum, by Patrick McGrath.
Thanks to The Little Professor for the recommendation. I tore through this chilling, unflinching, beautifully crafted little volume in one day, engrossed and unwilling to put it down.
It reminded me, in a horrid way, that I had forgotten to list
40. Damage, by Josephine Hart.
Shudder. There is some similarity between McGrath and Hart, certainly, but I can only define the difference by saying I will be seeking out more of McGrath’s work but not of Hart’s.
Sheer mindless word association sent my memory from Hart to Tartt:
41. The Little Friend, by Donna Tartt.
My, my, my, such a lot of (nonspecific Southern regional) childhood. I had me a powerful craving for biscuit and gravy, corn bread, and Co-cola while reading this. Only when I had finished did I realize it evoked as powerful a craving to reread To Kill a Mockingbird, which did a great deal of this business earlier and better.