Just finished

Exit the Milkman by Charlotte MacLeod.

I love MacLeod’s turn of phrase. Here are a couple of examples:

Three minutes later she was fast asleep and didn’t wake up until the barnyard Pavarotti that belonged to the farm down the road let loose with a midday cock-a-doodle-doo that might perhaps have awakened the dead in the old town burying ground if he’d tried just a little bit harder.

Jim was eyeing those four pot roast sandwiches much as Romeo might have ogled Juliet before they’d been properly introduced. Which, come to think of it, they never were.

While I enjoyed the language and the storytelling style, the ending was not to my taste, as it combines two endings that I really, really hate. My regular readers will know about at least one of them and enough to suspect what the other is.

P.S. To any Icelanders and Icelandophiles out there: Happy National Day!


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