I completely forgot yesterday. Completely.
What I’ve just finished reading:
Anne Boleyn: A King’s Obsession by Alison Weir. Okay, I really liked this. Weir’s fiction has definitely improved since her early attempts (The Lady Elizabeth was dire,) and I don’t just think that’s because I like Weir’s interpretation of Anne better than I liked her interpretation of Anne’s daughter. I mean, I liked The Other Boleyn Girl while disagreeing vehemently with its interpretation of history. … The Author’s Note at the end is also really good, mentioning the reasoning behind some of Weir’s choices, which I really appreciate.
What I’m reading now:
Jane Seymour: The Haunted Queen by Alison Weir. I know. I blame Six and the fact that Anne of Cleves and Katherine Parr are my favourites and Six made me more sympathetic towards … well, all of them except Seymour, and I feel like once I’m through this book I’ll be “over the hump” so to speak… and who knows, maybe Weir will make Seymour less of a wimp? Anyway, I’m actually enjoying it so far. The thing with this series is that you can end up seeing the same thing from multiple points of view, and (for example) the panic over the sweating sickness is suddenly reading very differently than it did when I read it the first time long before Novel Coronavirus was a thing...
The Duke and I by Julia Quinn. Because The Bridgertons is turning into a Netflix series, and a friend and colleague is part of a Bridgertons podcast, and because my wife asked about it. So far it’s delightful. I’m just.. Not reading it steadily. It’s not because I don’t like it - honestly I think it’s mostly because, well, the apocalypse.
What’s catching my eye on the TBR: I need to start Blonde Roots (by Bernardine Evaristo). I also just received The Lady’s Guide to Celestial Mechanics by Olivia Waite from the public library (I thought I’d suspended that hold, but apparently not.)
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