OGIC: A brief cry from the salt mines

My favorite kind of weather may just be overnight rain. Of course, this is immeasurably nicer when one is listening to the patter from under some covers in bed than when one is burning the midnight oil against an unmovable deadline and propping the eyelids with toothpicks. It’s raining outside now, tapping gently at the windows, and I’m up late cranking out a book review and sadly thinking about wasted rainfall and what might have been. I can’t say much more about the book until the review appears, but I can say that I loved it. This book is no sleeper–plenty of critics agree with me–but I’m still delighted to have a chance of my own to shout from the rooftops about it. Sometimes I’m reluctant to write about a book I’ve adored, because sometimes such a book will fall apart to some degree when I try to articulate its merits precisely. But on this one scrutiny is having the opposite effect, revealing fine structural details and different hues and shades that I missed previously. Which is all perfectly true, but also a way of luring myself back to the work at hand…. Blog at you soon.