I think I love you, SPYMASTER’S LADY. I think you are my new favorite book of the year now! Or maybe you are tied with Demon Night. I don’t know yet. I am too fresh from bed with you.
Sometimes when I love a thing, I want to talk and talk about it, and other times when I love a thing, I sort of don’t want to talk about it. I just want to sit quietly and enjoy it. That seems to be the case here. I don’t want to tell what the plot is or say what I liked it.
So apparently, not only am I a crap blogger this week, but no kind of reviewer either.
I will say this: you know how you sometimes catch of scent of something, and you don’t know what it reminds you of right away, you only know it was something wonderful? Like it fills you with a good feeling. And eventually you remember—oh, that day at the bakery, that summer at the lake. I sort of had that a lot with this book, not with scents, but more conceptually. Little things would evoke a pleasant feeling, and then I’d think, oh this scene or that scene. Sigh.
Also, I shamelessly pimped this to not only my mom, who tends to go for more literary fare, (though she loved The Outlander years before I did), but also to my pal Lauren, AND even to Mark! I hope that wasn’t a mistake. Mark is always looking for exciting books to read on planes. I pimped Janet Evanovich’s One for the Money to him as plane reading recently and he hated it. Isn’t that weird? He found the whole “bad girl voice” as he called it annoying. Anyway, he might read it for an upcoming plane trip based on my oh-so-strong recommendation, but he imagined he might get his own copy and rip off the cover and the inside color picture. And then he was like, what if the plane goes down and everybody finds out I was reading a book called The Spymaster’s Lady? Like it’s clutched in his dead hands. However, if the plane started going down, he could pitch it across the cabin.
Enough about Mark! Back to my non-review. The Spymaster’s Lady by Joanna Bourne. Oh, what a pleasure this book was!
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