Books I am currently failing to read

Ian Fleming, From Russia, With Love.
Rosemary Kirstein, The Steerswoman.
Erik Larson, The Devil in the White City.
Mitch Cullin, A Slight Trick of the Mind.
Judith Berman, Bear Daughter.
Tobias S. Buckell, Crystal Rain.
Gene Nora Jessen, The Powder Puff Derby of 1929.
Ann Braude, Radical Spirits.
Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind.
René Girard, Violence and the Sacred
Kelly Link, Magic for Beginners.
Robert Ludlum, The Bourne Identity.
Rosalind Coward, Female Desires.

(And this, mind you, is merely the list of books I have started and abandoned. We're not even talking about the books I own but have never so much as opened.)

What am I actually reading? Death Shall Overcome. For at least the tenth time.

T-35 and counting

2,070 2,416 words.

The second half of the Very Serious Conversation, a plot twist, and a fight.

Mildmay is discovering that the worst thing about family is they know how to push your buttons.

Shiny thing! (aka, If You Want Smart, You'd Better Look Somewhere Other Than Me Today)

coffeeem has a wonderful post about Western as a genre. As she points out, what she says about Westerns goes for SFF, too.