All day I've been trying to work out the exact book I wanted to read. Fiction, yes. Something that speaks to the mood I'm in today, a combination of lazy and happily outcast, part of nothing other than my home.
Scandinavian crime beckoned; was rejected on the basis on unseasonability. It's 30 degrees Celsius outside.
Outdoors. The vision of Flavia de Luce on her bicycle popped into my head. Castles and strange young women.
It's amazing what you find when you google those terms.
We Have Always Lived in the Castle.
My name is Mary Katherine Blackwood. I am eighteen years old, and I live with my sister Constance. I have often thought that with any luck at all I could have been born as a werewolf, because the two middle fingers on both my hands are the same length, but I have had to be content with what I had.
Ah, Mary Katherine. I will join you after dinner. Bliss.