In Which Your Humble Blogger tells the characters you can’t burn the coal! It’s killing us!, but they can’t hear me because it’s 1939.
In Which Your Humble Blogger muses over whether this series should be shelved elsewhere.
In Which Your Humble Blogger reads half a good book, or the good have of a book, or what you will.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is easily distracted.
In Which Your Humble Blogger agrees to take five and give them back.
In Which Your Humble Blogger veers off from the point to tell a story; what’s the purpose of that?
In Which Your Humble Blogger reports on books I didn’t read, because they were never written, which is their greatest flaw.
In Which Your Humble Blogger wonders if Mr. Applegate is interested in the soul of a baseball player with the first name Barry.
In Which Your Humble Blogger fails to tell a tale fit for winter, or for summer for that matter. Nor does YHB live by the churchyard. So there.
In Which Your Humble Blogger sets out to spoil not only the book but the movie, and not only the book and the movie but the adaptation of the book into the movie.