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Someday I should try plotting on a graph (oh, who am I kidding) my waxing and waning desires to read. I always want to read, naturally, but there are those days and weeks when it’s just consuming, and I find myself at work pulling books off the shelves and stashing them away on the bottom shelf of my book cart as I trundle around the library, allegedly shelving. Or there are days like yesterday when the young teen section will not give me enough room to shelve just two more titles, so I quickly scan for anything I’ve been meaning to read. So that I can pull those off and replace them with the ones that needed to be shelved. It’s rough, I tell you.

Recently I’ve read:

Everything on a Waffle by Polly Horvath. Personally, the idea of eating everything on a waffle is repellent, but I managed to get over this and love the book. The ending is a bit sappy, but Primrose is delightful. How can I not love a book with a character named Miss Perfidy? There are recipes. I’m going to have to try the waffle one, because if there’s anything I love on a waffle, it’s butter and syrup (just like the heavenly buttermilk pancakes that Kate and I consumed for breakfast (at about 11:30 am – not because we were lazy and slept that late, but because we’d just been on a virtuous hour-long walk/run (with the running occupying about 1/12 of the time))).

Love, Ruby Lavender by Deborah Wiles. Perhaps better than Each Little Bird That Sings, but without the fantastic names (Comfort, Declaration, Tidings? Can you beat that?) I liked the portrayal of friendships. I’m feeling uneloquent about this.

Behind the Scenes at the Museum by Kate Atkinson. Actually, I’m still reading this one but I’ll recommend it anyway. There are footnotes (which are whole chapters) that fill in family history backstory. There’s delightful forshadowing, especially about deaths, but it still manages to feel minorly suspenseful. There are wonderfully irritating characters. Dark humor. Great sense of time.

And my bookshelf, it overfloweth with titles.

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