Thoughts on books, often interpreted through the high-brow prism of cartoon (read: Archer) references. Wait! I had something for this...
Starting around the sixth Harry Potter adventure, each time I've sat down to read another of J.K. Rowling's books (in this case as Robert Galbraith), I'm prepared to discover that I had crossed some imagined line of well-read maturity leaving me out of love with her work. It just never happens.
Since I read The Cuckoo's Calling, I've logged far more literary hours in the company of detectives and the like. But, as it turns out, Cormoran Strike and Robin continue to delight me and effortlessly pull me into their latest exploits. Honestly, if I weren't hoarding stars in case of an upcoming embargo, this might have been a fiver.