Gott and Murder and centenaries

This is my hundredth post. Hurrah! That shows commitment of some kind...to avoiding work at least. Unfortunately I can't raise the tone by talking about the erudite book* I'm reading at the moment because it keeps putting me to sleep. I know it's good though; it's just that when you know that the characters are only there to prove philosophical points it's a bit hard to pay attention to what they say.

This week, I keep finding where other people are talking about books I've read.
Doppelganger over at 50 Books was really enthusiastic about Beauty Tips from Moose Jaw (and far more descriptive than I bothered to be seeing I'd given my copy away).

The other day Laura at Sarsparilla was far less positive about the delightful Good Murder by Robert Gott. I admit bought this book last year because I liked the cover. Sometimes you've just got to do that. It's a bit too gory but it makes up for this by the joy of such an unreliable and completely unlikeable narrator whom you just want to SHAKE sometimes. It's set in Maryborough during WWII and I liked this because, when I was a kid, I asked my grandmother about what happened in the Queensland country town she lived in during the war and got the very lame response of "Oh the war didn't really affect us. We were trained to spot Japanese planes but." I mean?!!? All the men including her husband left town and she didn't seem bothered by it any more?

This book and the even more gory sequel A Thing of Blood have been completely round my reading circle with a great deal of enthusiasm. There's meant to be a sequel soon too, set in Darwin. Maybe they'll be there during the bombing. I can hardly wait.

* After Many a Summer by Aldous Huxley in his dispapointing Californian meaning of life phase, not his funnier European aesthetic phase.