I am simultaneously finishing Jo Nesbo's The Snowman and Christine Battersby's Gender and Genius. Have I read one with one side of the brain and the other, with the other? Who knows?
Academic books are both a joy and a prison, whereas reading crime novels feels like running in field. Oddly, I don't like the gory bits and now I know who the murderer is I'm going to put the book down and thereby avoid the ghastly will he/won't he tension of the last few pages.
Today I plan to write and write and write.... but first, coffee.
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