"Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa." Well, it's book confession time. I may have just said it's my fault, but I wrote a strong letter to author Anne Cleeland telling her it's her fault I haven't yet finished her third book, Murder in Hindsight. I was reading her Acton and Doyle Scotland Yard mysteries over the holidays, and partway through this latest one, I went back and reread Murder in Thrall, the first book. I have never read a book twice in the same week. It's her fault for writing about two characters who are that intriguing. Acton suffers from obsession, and now I'm stuck obsessing over those books. In fact, I asked Cleeland when book four is coming out.
So, as long as I'm on a roll, I might as well make a second confession. I read Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol last night because I'm planning to go to a book discussion at one of our library's today. I was publicizing the program yesterday as one of those books we all think we know, but we haven't read. I've seen countless versions of it on TV, and it's one of my favorite Christmas shows, no matter who plays Scrooge (although I do love Michael Caine in The Muppet Christmas Carol). But, I'm one of those people who hadn't read it.
OK. There are my two book confessions. I'm absolutely hooked on a new series, rereading the first book so that I haven't had time to finish the third. And, until last night, I hadn't read A Christmas Carol.
How about you? Any book confessions at the end of the year?