In Which Your Humble Blogger enjoys the book less than he enjoys reading it. Or do I mean more?
In Which Your Humble Blogger wonders if it’s a trend. Or just something I perceive about the universe, because I only see a little bit of it.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is sadly monolingual.
In Which Your Humble Blogger goes home again, to find that everything seems really small. Was it always this small? I remember it being bigger, somehow.
In Which Your Humble Blogger reaches for comparison and loses his balance and topples over into a vat of custard. Intelligent custard. That talks!
In Which Your Humble Blogger finishes the trilogy–wait, what? A fourth book?
In Which Your Humble Blogger keeps reading those sequels.
In Which Your Humble Blogger reaches the end, the very end, and cannot go on. Unless, you know, the guy needs money in a few years, because that happens too.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is pleasantly… well, not surprised, I suppose. Pleased. Pleasantly.
In Which Your Humble Blogger has a thought.