I like to read. And I’m finding the time to read more, as I am finding more time to write. It’s funny sometimes how you find time when you don’t actually have more time… Time is interesting that way. I even joined a book club and writing group, both at my local library. The local library I worked at years ago, and am back working at, but only as a sub.
Any way, back to reading, and the fact I’m reading more. Every book, at least that I’m actually going to read, needs a good beginning.
And that’s what my new series centers around… First words…
And for the first post… The first words of Fredrik Backman’s My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She’s Sorry.
Every seven-year-old deserves a superhero. That’s just how it is.
Anyone who doesn’t agree needs their head examined.
That’s what Elsa’s granny says, at least.
Elsa is seven, going on eight. She knows she isn’t especially good at being seven. She knows she’s different. Her headmaster says she needs to “fall in line” in order to achieve “a better fit for her age.” Elsa knows this is just another way of saying “massively annoying for her age,” because they only tend to say this when she corrects them for mispronouncing “déjà vu” or not being able to tell the difference between “me” and “I” at the end of a sentence. Smart-asses usually can’t, hence the “grown-up for her age” comment, generally said with a strained smile at her parents. As if she has a mental impairment, as if Elsa has shown them up by not being totally thick just because she’s seven. And that’s why she doesn’t have any friends except Granny. Because all the other seven-year-olds in her school are as idiotic as seven-year-olds tend to be, but Elsa is different.
So… interesting, right? Care to join me? Me and my book club, that is…
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