Baby Evie is sleeping in her own room now and going to bed at a reasonable hour. Which means, oh joy, reading books in bed. I drive to work, I'm busy - bed is the place I read.
The backlog is considerable and has been driving me mad, just sitting there taunting me - the bedside table is just the smallest tip if the iceberg.
Anyway, just finished Norwegian Wood. Perversely, I've read and loved tons of Murukami but never got around to the book that took from him from cult to huge. I've always loved his surreal approach and despite this book being much more straightforward at first, there's as much going on with this book as any other, in fact, possibly more. It's a real skill to pull the extraordinary out of the mundane and he does it in spades here.
And there's a quote I'll take with me forever, "only arseholes feel sorry for themselves". Quite so.