Well, well, well, there’s life in the old volume yet. The Trick is to Keep Breathing became somewhat interesting today on lunch hour. And just in time, as I was giving it a few more pages, then the old heave ho. As always happens when I’m into a book that is not really holding court, my mind begins to do its own bit of title shopping for the next read. Some possibilities flitting through for the moment the Galloway slows down again and I’m forced to chuck it: Angle of Repose, London Fields, anything by Philip Roth. I need an energizing read, after gobbling the O’Brien and not saving any for this week. Work is so busy right now, and the drive home finds me thinking of a glass of red rather than anything literary. Or rather than anything at all.