Book review – Iris Murdoch – “The Red and the Green” #IMReadalong @IrisMurdoch

2 Comments

Carrying on with the #IMReadalong, we’ve had two of the “minor” novels in a row here, with “The Red and the Green” being I feel one of the less-read novels. It’s Murdoch’s only specifically historical novel, treating the events of Ireland’s Easter Rising and taking a close look at Anglo-Irish and Irish identity. I’m not sure myself that it entirely works as either a historical novel or a novel, but there are of course lots of Murdochian themes and complicated relationships to enjoy, and a less successful Murdoch novel is still a good novel in my eyes.

Iris Murdoch – “The Red and the Green”

(27 February 2018)

I’d forgotten that the sea plays such an important scene-setting role in this book, with beautiful descriptions as usual for IM. Almost immediately we’re looking across Dublin Bay with Andrew Chase-White, in a view that’s “intensely familiar and yet disturbingly alien” (p. 10) – a description it seems of how the Anglo-Irish characters feel when in Ireland (and perhaps in England, too). And we soon meet his cousin, Pat Dumay, the very reason he’s joined a cavalry regiment and grown a moustache. It does feel a bit creaky to have a plot that sets cousin against cousin in the struggle for Home Rule, but then again these things do happen and it enables IM to make some useful points: does the personal outrule the political / military in people’s hearts (yes). While there are plenty of confusing siblings, with pairs marrying each other and a few outliers, Andrew is without siblings and longs for that relationship.

With these confusing siblings, Murdoch actually once again describes the confusion of reading her books:

‘We Anglo-Irish families are so complex,’ Hilda used often to exclaim with a kind of pride, as if complexity in families were a rare privilege. (p. 18)

Checking that quotation, I noted Millie’s assertion that “we’re practically incestuous,” used to greater effect right at the end of the book, of course.

We have plenty of civil servants in the book and also plenty of doubling. Both Barnabas and Christopher have given up civil service jobs to write books. Christopher’s an interesting character, seeming to be quiet and sere and all pulled together but then effectively destroying himself through sudden impulsive actions. Is this the contingent winning over the pattern? Pat and Andrew both fear sex and loathe women, with Andrew being very naive about their motivations. Of course they then, and Christopher, are after the same woman. Andrew and Barney are both virgins and it’s clear they both fail in this respect (I think it’s clear with Andrew).

Pleasingly, we find both people staring into houses through windows – Frances and later Frances and Christopher, and we even find Frances flitting across the lawn in her “whitish” dressing-gown, carrying on the tradition of pale-clad women fleeing through the dew.

It’s quite clear to me that we have two enchanters in Millie and Pat Dumay, and one saint in Kathleen. Kathleen is actually described as the good woman to Millie’s bad woman at one point (p. 108). Kathleen is indifferent to her surroundings and lives in mess and chaos, wearing shabby clothes (in contrast to Millie’s showy dressing-up). It’s explained that her lack of attention to the house is down to her being too busy helping people in distress. Christopher describes her as an independent character and no slave, and respects her for this. Barney goes further, describing her (like Ann in “An Unofficial Rose”) as having “a negative quality in her, an un-life, in the presence of which ordinary healthy persons, such as myself and my step-sons, quite perceptibly shuddered” (p. 213). It’s good to see that she and Frances prevail uninjured to the end of the epilogue, Kathleen still taking in waifs and strays.

As for Millie, Christopher is unable to prevent himself falling in love with her and has been “helpless”. Barney, similarly, “A few kind words, a touch, from Millie re-established and confirmed his servitude” (p. 110). She collects admirers and is “simply incapable of refusing a devotion however absurd” (p. 84), thus being another enchanter whose role is created by their subjects. However, she does also go out of her way to lure Barney when he’s training for the priesthood – “She simply wanted this black-robed priestling as her slave, a pet to fondle and caress” (p. 105). I’m not sure Pat manipulates people in the same way: everyone appears to be in love with him, but he doesn’t do anything to encourage that. Cathal complains of being “enslaved” (p. 125) but continues their bathing ritual past when he could have stopped, and Andrews’ idolising of him means that “the spring of power was broken inside him” (p. 308). So maybe he’s the true enchanter.

As well as goodness we are introduced to ideas of freedom – in Pat’s case “a real loss of tissue in the Self” but associated with pain and masochism and mixed up with his idea of his role as Ireland’s liberator.

Back to that water, we have the sea (notably, Barney visits it with Frances and fails to give his rifle up to it), and also the incessant rain – Millie is practically constantly slightly damp around the skirts (and dampens Pat’s trousers with her “tears or kisses” (p. 180). Water even falls through the conservatory roof onto the tablecloths and there’s always something dripping. When Millie drops her earring inside Andrew’s shirt, it immediately begins to pour with rain. She and Frances also have complex buns, as characters have to have in IM, although I’m not sure anyone’s hair is cut (Millie’s comes down at a pivotal moment). Kathleen and Barney and also Millie have chaotic and busy rooms and there are two mentions of masks (Pat when observed by Cathal). There are complicated arrangements for war but a very Murdochian sudden slew of detail on exactly how to gag someone effectively but safely.

There are discussions of women’s issues which I don’t recall being to the forefront in the other novels (though we do have the efficient secretaries who take things over in “The Flight from the Enchanter”). Millie demonstrates a masculinity which makes her an attractive boy to some characters, but it’s Frances who pushes against the boundaries and raises questions (and who escapes the clutches of Ireland).

Although it’s very much a novel of deep ironies (most strongly the fact that however much one wants to act in a certain way, one’s deep human relationships will always prevail – see Pat and Cathal; Andrew and Pat), there’s not a huge lot of humour. I did like a point about Millie which almost (and I know I don’t usually espouse linking books to their authors’ private lives) seemed to echo Murdoch’s:

A popular woman who enjoys her admirers and is also kind-hearted will naturally want to keep her friendships strictly sealed off from each other. (p. 78)

The inability to do just this gives her the funniest line in the novel, much later:

Well, a woman caught in my situation has got to adopt some tone, and it’s not easy to combine devastating frankness with calm dignity. What tone do you suggest? (p. 251)

The Epilogue is necessary, I think, and of course gives some more doubling and patterning with the coming of the Second World War and Frances’ worry about her son’s friend going to the Spanish Civil War. There’s some slightly heavy-handed discussion of what history will remember, the historical novel side of things intruding once more.

The introduction in my copy mainly covers the psychological aspects of the novel, apparently informed by its 1960s time of writing, which influenced some other works about the Easter Rising. So the historical aspect is prime there, whereas I tend to see the novel as an IM novel with history inserted into it. Not a bad read by any means, not a work of historical document, and I’m glad we move back to the dank mists of religious England for the next work.


Please either place your review in the comments, discuss mine or others’, or post a link to your review if you’ve posted it on your own blog, Goodreads, etc. I’d love to know how you’ve got on with this book and if you read it having read others of Murdoch’s novels or this was a reread, I’d love to hear your specific thoughts on those aspects, as well as if it’s your first one!

If you’re catching up or looking at the project as a whole, do take a look at the project page, where I list all the blog posts so far.

Book review – Gillian Tindall – “The Tunnel Through Time” #20BooksOfSummer #amreading

4 Comments

Gillian Tindall The Tunnel Through TimeMatthew and I have been having a week off work this week: we didn’t go anywhere, but had a good rest and got a load of useful stuff done in the bits between resting and (of course) reading: a lightshade in the bathroom! Three computer carcases gone to the recycling centre! Slightly complicated holiday booked for later in the year! I’m caught up with the blogs I read! I took the attached picture to prove I did sit out in the garden reading – we’ve had a bit of rain just now and the boiling hot weather did calm down a bit, which was a relief.

I bought this book in the Edge of the World Bookshop in Penzance last October (yes, I’m much less than a year behind right now – hooray!) – it’s a lovely independent bookshop and I always try to buy something there when I’m down.

Gillian Tindall – “The Tunnel Through Time”

(02 October 2017 – Edge of the World Bookshop, Penzance)

I picked this up on the strength of having enjoyed the author’s “Celestine: Voices from a French Village” (read and reviewed 8 years ago when my reviews were much shorter) and liking a train book and a London book, so the combination seemed perfect. Subtitled “A New Route for an Old London Journey”, it promised to be a book about the new Crossrail route (not the same as the London Overground, which I had for some reason not entirely grasped) but in fact dots around particular areas and shorter journeys from history that Crossrail now covers, but leaving out some because there is either not enough history there (the Paddington area and Docklands) or there’s been too MUCH history and writing about it (the Brick Lane area). This makes it feel a bit piecemeal and also confusing, as it folds back on itself a few times, comes back to an area chapters afterwards and/or jumps backwards and forwards in time. Then we come to this bit at the end of Chapter V, about Liverpool Street, which seemed overly mysterious and also not in keeping with the endless change and cycles of London:

A further generation has passed, and now at last Crossrail has arrived and the forgotten dead have, in a fragmented sense, lived again. It has been their last appearance. (p. 93)

There was a lot of interest in the book – it explained well that it’s the digging for the new ticket halls that has exposed the most archaeology, covered the history of the Tube and train lines of London (although obviously lots of other books do that, too) and explained just what’s been going on at the Oxford Street end of Tottenham Court Road – there’s a great map of that area and of Covent Garden in the 1880s which was fascinating. It’s also very good on bringing out the whole history of a place in a paragraph, for example Paul Pindar’s house, which passed from private dwelling to pub, ending up memorialised only in the name of a pedestrian walkway through a car park near the Broadgate development (this is what makes the above quotation seem odd, as she’s all about the endless cycles of development and change).

However, I would say that, map of London in the front and contrasting early and late maps of individual areas notwithstanding, you do kind of need to be able to either hold a map of London and an idea of the layout of the Tube lines and overground in your head or be comfortable constantly referring to them.

There’s a lot about history “porn” and misunderstandings espoused by successive generations of Londoners and writers, whether that’s the casting back to the good old days or misrememberings of houses and history, the influence of World War I on writer’s images of peacetime London or many other views of the city and its history. The author is also scathing about modern planning disasters as well as older destructions. So there’s a lot to say in this book, but it’s said maybe at the expense of clarity.

This was Book #7 in my 20BooksofSummer project.


I’m currently a third of the way through “The Red and the Green”, this month’s Iris Murdoch. It’s an odd one, both better and worse than I remembered. Review should come soon, I hope. Then it’s on to Henry II before I get back to 20Books with “Born to Run”. At least I’m keeping up with my reviews and with reading other people’s blogs. How are your book challenges going?

Book review – Miranda Aldhouse-Green – “Sacred Britannia” @ShinyNewBooks @thamesandhudson

Leave a comment

Sacred BritanniaI did some archaeology when I was younger and always enjoyed working on the everyday rather than the fancy. I’ve maintained an interest in Roman history and archaeology but have lost touch with new discoveries and theories, so it was especially good to read in this book of finds made up to the mid-2010s as well as the more familiar objects and sites – it added to the fascination of this book I read in June, just now featured on Shiny New Books.

What the book basically does is take the gods and religious practices of the Romans and the gods and practices of the Britons and looks at their interaction in the context of the Roman occupation of Britain, starting from Caesar’s expeditions to the country in 55/54 BC and finishing at what is traditionally seen as the end of Roman Britain in the early 5th century AD. The chapters are themed, looking first at the role of the Druids in the whole thing, then the role of the Roman Army, which was the most definitive example of the spreading of Romans through Britain but also probably the most diverse group of “Romans” hailing from all parts of the empire, in both spreading news of their gods and taking up use of the Britons’. Related to this, there’s a whole chapter on Eastern cults which got absorbed into Roman culture then imported into Britain: the cult of Mithras and others. There’s a fascinating chapter on ancient British symbols such as horns and triple figures being absorbed into Roman iconography, and the use and re-use of different symbols and indeed individual statues and images is continued in the chapter on Christianity … [read the rest at Shiny New Books]

Thank you to Thames & Hudson for providing a book in return for an honest review on Shiny New Books.

Book review – Robert MacFarlane – “The Old Ways” plus a DNF #amreading #20BooksOfSummer

8 Comments

Finally getting on with another #20BooksOfSummer book after a diversion into the Kindle (and although I’ve got another on the go now, then we’re all about Iris Murdoch and Henry II for a bit). I do feel bad that I’ve only got to Book 6 so far but then it’s not a challenge you’re ever made to feel bad about, so I need to stop that!

I also report on a DNF that I really didn’t take to – I was reading it for NetGalley and I’ll paste here the notes I put there. I did skim the whole thing but didn’t take in every word, so I’m not counting it as a book properly read!

Robert MacFarlane – “The Old Ways: A Journey on Foot”

(21 August 2017, Oxfam)

Apparently third in his trilogy, but the one I’d heard of, spotted in Oxfam Books. I was a bit worried about this as a few of my readers had said it had fallen a bit flat for them, however I’m happy to report that I loved it!

There were a few icky bits, with dead birds and a VERY odd sculptor, but nothing I couldn’t cope with. There was also a funny supernaturally bit near the start but by the time I got to another nearer the end, I’d realised there isn’t a lot of Woo to this writer, and when the old ways and their old walkers are concerned, sometimes slightly uncanny things happen.

MacFarlane weaves in the lives and works of other writers, especially Edward Thomas, whose home locations he visits and whose life he tells, but also people like Adam Nicolson (hooray!) whose Shiant Isles he memorably visits. The old ways turn out not to just be holloways and sunken tracks, ridge ways and drovers’ paths, but also sea paths and shifting estuarine mud projects. I loved learning about how paths develop and remain (that requires common care and common practice) and learning about how “desire paths” can supersede and impose themselves on official routes. The book wears its learning lightly, though, and I think you still get a sense of the human behind it – especially when he describes a walk made to his grandfather’s funeral, which I found very moving.

Although he experiences danger, particularly in the muddy Broomway, most of the book is about walks with friends, describing the natural world and particularly birds, and encountering various characters along the way, again, also covering an idea of who has walked in the British countryside and when. I enjoyed the parts in Britain most, but the travels abroad, especially his encounter with vultures in Spain, were interesting, too. He has lots to say about pilgrimage and talks of pilgrims.

I did like a quotation I pulled from his wet walk of the Broomway, when he’s worrying about the tide rushing in:

For some reason, I couldn’t overcome my sense of tides as volatile rather than fixed, capricious rather than regulated. What if the tides disobeyed the moon, on this day of all days? (p.68)

Who hasn’t felt that, when crossing a causeway or descending to a beach?

The index, in categories, is a bit odd, but he thanks the indexer by name, which is lovely. So all in all a great book that I’m glad I read.

This was Book 6 in my 20BooksOfSummer project.

Helen Cullen – “The Lost Letters of William Woolf”

(from NetGalley, May 2018 – skimmed after about 25%)

I was intrigued by the synopsis and, like other reviewers, was interested in the idea of the Department of Lost Letters and all the different parcels that had gone astray and had to be reunited with their owners or addressees. The parts of the book which covered this were great, however I was not expecting the actual main theme of the book, picking over a marriage gone sour, and I found this quite depressing and not something I would look forward to reading about. And then it was very much “tell” and not “show” so not really interesting as such. I ended up skimming it, so I can’t review it on my book blog, but got a good general idea of it. What a shame as it could have been so good. There’s no mention of the marriage in the synopsis so maybe the publisher was aware it wasn’t this aspect that would sell the book. The very ending, the epilogue, was so pat and tidy as to grate, an assumption made that if something is settled upon as an ending, so it will happen. I’m sure lots of people will like this, but not for me, sorry.


How are your reading projects going?

Book review – Clare Balding – “Walking Home” plus @ShinyNewBooks news #amreading #20BooksOfSummer

12 Comments

I’ve been getting on really quite nicely with my reading this month, with twelve books read – it’s a shame only five of those have been 20BooksOfSummer project books, but I kind of knew that would happen. I only have one NetGalley book and one book for Shiny New Books that I absolutely HAVE to read next month (OK, plus my Murdoch A Month) so that should allow me to get through a few more, and I have some slim novels and running books coming up.

Clare Balding – “Walking Home”

(21 August 2017, Oxfam)

Not the second volume of her autobiography we’d really like, but a book based around her popular (but unheard by me) Ramblings radio programme, describing people she’s met and walks she’s walked along the course of presenting it, and weaving in tales of some family walks around her parents’ home village and bits of her life here and there.

There’s a lovely chapter on the London 2012 Olympics (why does even reading about the opening ceremony still make me cry?) and her torch-bearing exploits and reporting on the swimming, and also a great chapter on the Walking Cure where she explores research and practical examples of the mental health benefits of walking (something I care about sharing deeply, as I help support a local Run and Talk initiative which encourages people to walk, jog or run and have a chat). She goes to Cornwall and doesn’t walk in areas I know but does talk about the Minack Theatre, where a friend of mine works, and she generally meets inspiring and fun people and has a good old walk. There are nice maps and photos, too. There is a very sad section about the loss of her puppy which I had to skip, but otherwise sweet and engaging and a fun, pretty light read with some serious messages.

This was Book 5 in my 20BooksOfSummer project.

Shiny goodness!

I reviewed Benjamin Zephaniah’s new autobiography on here recently, but I also submitted a less personal and more measured review to Shiny New Books, which was published this week. Do click through and use it as a springboard to find more fun new books to read!


I’ve now started reading Robert McFarlane’s “The Old Ways”. When I posted my original 20 Books Pile, a few people told me they’d been a bit disappointed by this, and to be fair, I set its bulk aside for the lighter Clare Balding book when I was having a slightly taxing week. But I’ve now started it (and discovered it’s almost like a heavier, more serious version of “Walking Home” anyway, being about, well, walking, the history of walking and people he meets along the way) and I’m finding it just marvellous, lyrical, full of lovely terminology and birds and landscape. I was a bit worried it was going to be the kind of book you have to immerse yourself in with swathes of time to read it, like on holiday, but actually I’m finding dipping in at mealtimes gives a lovely escape into a different world for a moment.

Book review – David Weir – “Weirwolf” #20BooksOfSummer #amreading

10 Comments

Look at me getting on with my 20 Books of Summer list like a pro. OK, it is 26 June as we speak and I’ve only read four of them, but I’m sure I’ll catch up. Certainly having worked on my work schedule, I’m finding more time for reading at the weekends at least, and some more time during the week.

It’s also been lovely to get some reading in the GARDEN done – outdoors, in the sunshine, soaking up that Vitamin D. We have managed to get the garden reasonably tidy, too, keeping on top of the lawn, weeding and deadheading – there isn’t much to our garden and gardening isn’t a joy to me, but it’s nice to keep it tidy. At the moment, the hedges in the back are large and fuzzy, but we have birds nesting in them and I’d rather have lovely birds than neat hedges and no birds! Would you like a bonus bird picture? I’ll pop one at the end.

Oh, and look at the date of acquisition of this book – I’m only 11 months behind at the moment!

David Weir – “Weirwolf”

(31 July 2017 – Poundland)

Poundland do have a shelf of books and you never know what you might find – the slightly out-of-date autobiography of the UK’s most decorated wheelchair athlete for starters!

This is an honest and open autobiography (written with David Bond, who gets a credit on the title page and a bio at the back) full of exciting race report but also reflecting on disability, disability sports and training regimes. It was published in 2013 so is a bit out of date, but also positive, pretty well ending on the high of his London 2012 triumphs.

We open, as all London 2012-based sports biographies do, with him preparing to race in the Paralympics. He explains exactly how he gets into and stays in his racing chair and I appreciate the level of detail throughout the book on the technical details of steering, etc., which adds a good level of depth to the narrative. We’re then back to a chronological telling of his story, from his father’s uncanny ability to recover from effort when in the Army, which he shares, through is early life fitting in with the other kids and not considering himself disabled.

Weir, who went to a special school, speaks of changes in attitudes towards disabled people since mainstream schooling as a default came in, however I was pretty shocked to read him state he would consider terminating a pregnancy if a child of his was disabled themselves: “… because I was brought up disabled, I wouldn’t want a child to be brought up in the same situation as me” (p. 147). I suppose he has the right to his opinions, and it’s great that he’s honest, but I was still shocked.

Moving on, it’s a book full of respect and praise for his coach, Jenny Archer – whose advice he prioritises over that of UK Athletics even when that gets him into trouble – and mentor Tanni Grey-Thompson. He’s pretty scathing about the different treatment given to disabled athletes in comparison to able-bodied ones, but at least he has sought to address that by setting up the Weir-Archer Academy to help young disabled athletes, including people who want to take part in sport for fun and to keep fit (I particularly liked that bit).

Weir is open and honest even about less positive aspects of his own life, such as his long-past recreational drug use and his debilitating fear of flying. He’s obviously an anxious man and it’s refreshing to see him share this, as well as his concerns about and for his children. In the end, I enjoyed most the bits about the technicalities of racing, shouting across to his friend Josh Cassidy about getting boxed in (I never knew they could call out to each other during races), etc. A good read.

This was Book 4 in my 20 Books of Summer project.


I’m currently reading “Sacred Britannia” which is excellent on the mixing of religions in Roman Britain, absolutely fascinating and I can’t wait to write up my review of it for Shiny New Books. Then it’s on to the next 20Books book …

Oh, bonus bird pic. HOW many sparrows?

Book review – George Eliot – “Scenes of Clerical Life” #20BooksOfSummer #amreading

14 Comments

Alas, I fear my cunning plan to leave review books (Shiny and NetGalley) off my 20BooksOfSummer pile is not doing me any favours (did anyone see THAT coming??). So far this month, I’ve read and reviewed eight books, of which three were NetGalley review reads, one was for a Shiny / here joint review, one was just a normal read left over from last month, one was my Iris Murdoch for the month and two were for 20BooksOfSummer. Hm.

And this one, well, a bit disappointing (and that’s after having given up entirely on “The Accidental Apprentice”). I love George Eliot and I’ve been gradually reading all her books, after a phase (lasting 20 or so years) when I only read and re-read “Middlemarch” – as I find them, to make them last, and I do still have a few left to get hold of. I found it hard to get into this one and hard going; I don’t mind working for a classic but there wasn’t much to get hold of here, I found.

At least I’m now under a year behind in the gap between acquisition and reading … That’s something, right?

George Eliot – “Scenes of Clerical Life”

(29 July 2017, Oxfam)

Like other early books (that Jane Austen book from the other month springs to mind, and early Hardy in a way), this felt hard to get into, especially the first story, nad a bit over melodramatic, although the writer of the introduction of my copy seems to claim she’s realistic, not melodramatic. Because of the short story format, the characters are by definition not as well-established as in her novels, and although the web of society is there, it’s not fleshed out so much.

“The Sad Fortunes of Amos Barton” took a lot of getting past some old people visiting each other before we got to the story. There’s some good observation of our central vicar character, including sharp comments about how a tallow dip candle that belongs in the kitchen candlestick doesn’t match as well the silver candlesticks kept for best, and I liked Eliot’s boldness in concentrating on a fairly ordinary man and situation; her careful exactness on the effect of the gentry turning the head of a local vicar and the scene where the maid rebukes the fine lady are nicely done. There’s a weird bit of random criticism of the reverend’s hair, odd in a book that was apparently written from the life. We hover over house calls and clerical meetings in a style that will be familiar to those used to Eliot, and we also have a fair bit of her authorial voice and metafiction.

“Mr Gilfil’s Love-Story” gives us the back-story of someone mentioned in the first story, and as it’s told in flashback, we know it’s going to be a tragedy. It’s a bit odd and melodramatic, with Eliot really too far outside her main characters to make them attractive to the reader: she’s best on the controlling instincts of the old man of the family and there are some great scenes between the abandoned and new loves. Mr G is a truly, rather Iris Murdochian, good character and it’s interesting to see how Eliot develops him.

“Janet’s Repentance” is the longest of the stories and covers domestic violence (it’s very good on why Janet remains trapped in her awful situation) and alcoholism. I loved the narrator, an invisible but present figure who is there in church and chapel with Janet but then torments his younger sister with impressions of some of the characters. He reminded me of Murdoch’s narrator in “The Philosopher’s Pupil” – how can he see inside all the houses? Anyway, unfortunately there are too many women characters of a certain age to not confuse me, and the plot relies on having a fairly detailed knowledge/understanding of religious sects and divisions which is perhaps retreating further and further from the modern reader: Eliot does fill in the background but I was a bit confused there, too. Mrs Crewe and Mr Jerome are, again, selfless and good characters who work for the benefit of others, and this redeems the story.

So, sorry, George Eliot, this didn’t hit the spot for me. I’m sure many other people have read this and can change my mind … maybe.

This was Book 3 (oh no, oh woe!) in my #20BooksOfSummer project. Find the whole pile here.


Next up I need to be reading “Sacred Britannia” by Miranda Aldhouse-Green (about the intersections of religions in Roman Britain) to review for Shiny New Books (see a pic here), but I’ll admit to going in for a palate cleanser first so have picked up David Weir’s “Weirwolf” to read first. The story of his Paralymic success opens at the 2012 Games and is very readable so far. That’s Book 4 in #20Books …

How’s your #20Books going? Am I wrong about this Eliot?

Older Entries