I like to read books.
And not even books with pictures – books with just words!
Reading this blog, I can understand that you find that hard to believe. But there it is, it’s a fact.
People that know me know that I like to read books. They’ll often buy, lend or recommend books to me – almost always literary tomes to make me think. Which is good for two reasons:
- Sometimes it works, and I do actually think about things
- It makes me look good when I read them in public
However, I’m not above admitting that I like a good old page-turning thriller. And a month or so ago my wife took a break from buying me obscure South American literature (which she really buys so that she can read them and then moan at me that I never read the books that she buys me) and she bought me a thriller. It was called I Am Pilgrim. Continue reading