I’m not quite sure what happened in August – or what happened to August, come to think of it – but I only read an unlucky 13 books.

Three non-fiction – essays, a travel/memoir thing, and a guide to organics.  One play.  One a Newbery winner.  Four fantasy.  One referencing Byron, one Jane Austen, one Greek mythology, one ancient Egypt, one Arthurian legend.

Farthing by Jo Walton and Arcadia by Tom Stoppard are probaby the cream of the crop.  The Off-Season and The Oracle Betrayed, plus the first two, were the hardest to put down.  None that I regret reading, but I was most underwhelmed by Theodosia and the Serpents of Choas and The Titan’s Curse – although both had commendable qualities.

I  have a feeling Middlemarch will consume much of September, but I’ve got quite a few lined up for dessert, as it were.  Right now I’m listening to Gilead, which I’ve been meaning to read for a while.  I’m not quite hooked by the whole thing, but there are bits that reel me in.

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