In Which Your Humble Blogger steps back into the river, the cold, cold river, and over Golden Rauros Falls, and all.
In Which Your Humble Blogger thinks the kid is ready for the next round.
In Which Your Humble Blogger wound up finishing the book while still hoping it was going to improve.
In Which Your Humble Blogger has fun with the whole orientalism thing, without occupying anybody or trading guns or drugs.
In Which Your Humble Blogger somehow really thought that the title was about policemen, plural, which (for no discernible reason) seemed much worse.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is happy.
In Which Your Humble Blogger steps back in the river at last. Different water, different foot.
In Which Your Humble Blogger hasn’t actually tried the patterns out, but trusts that they would knit out well.
In Which Your Humble Blogger notes that if you give a book that title, you are just asking reviewers to describe the thing as nasty, brutish and short.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is snowed in, only without any snow.