Come home Anne Tyler

That's it! I am done with Sebastian Barry. I don't care if he does write like an angel. I can't take any more of the unhappiness and violence in his novels. I don't care if it is all based on the kinds of things that have happened in Ireland over the last century: life is hard enough and tough enough without reading novels about misery as well. I need lifting up. I need encouragement. I need solace. I am going to read Breathing Lessons while I am here. I can't face East of Eden now.

Wendy and Isaac saw me taking Plotting for Beginners off their shelf last night and said - "Good book! You ought to read it!" but I only wanted it to check what Sam calls Sally, (i.e. does he say Mum, or Ma?) as I am working on the sequel during the silent watches of jet-lag, when everyone else is asleep.