Wednesday, 14 March 2012

Not a plug

One of the drawbacks of being a busy bookseller is that there is less time than one would like to read books. So many come to my notice that when the pile of the ones I'd put aside to read before I sell them fell over, twice, I gave up. However, thanks to a chance encounter at a party, I found myself running the bookstall at the launch for this one, bought a copy and have been reading it in every spare moment for the last couple of days. It is a dream. An evocative account of the author's mother's marriage to Lawrence Durrell. I am loving it. I tell you this, not to sell you one (though of course I will) but to observe that even my fevered imagination, would struggle to construct the intelligent reader who would not reap ample rewards from the time invested in reading it too.

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