This week I went to Random Walk to get the next book in the Master and Commander series, which I am hopelessly addicted to, but it wasn't there. Egads, as my grandmother would say. So I bought Until I Find You by John Irving. I had been meaning to read it since I heard him talk about it on Terry Gross years ago. Irving is a tricky writer. He doesn't really strike you as brilliant, but then you realize you have read an 839 page book in less than a week and have been incredibly moved. Not shaken up and changed as Faulkner or maybe Irving Welsh can do, but moved none the less. It is really a good book; tattoos, wrestling and tawdry sex, so really, right in my strike zone.
Back to Random Walk last night, still no Master and Commander so I got some Patricia Highsmith.
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