…The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie, Alan Bradley
This was another one of the books that I read on my Scottish honeymoon, it was recommended to me at a ‘Book Spa’ experience (if you haven’t been to one – go to one, it’s like therapy but with literature and tea…and cake), basically because I said I was a bit of an Agatha Christie fan and this book is indeed a murder mystery but a murder mystery with a bit of twist.
Well not me, thats for sure. In the lead up to my wedding I was a mess, the three days before – a wreck. I was snotty and ill and crying and dreading the ‘big day’ (it makes it worse when people call it that). However, something amazing happened – when I woke up on ‘the morning of’ I was calm, happy, relaxed, still a bit poorly but nothing a lemsip and glass of fizz couldn’t fix. I loved getting ready and then when the actual event got started I actually had the best day of my entire life. It was the opposite of what I expected, but actually exactly what everyone said it would be. I can’t wait to see the wedding video because at the moment it all feels as though it was a really wonderful dream! Yesterday I received these beautiful pictures and they’re really helping it all seem like reality.
On my honeymoon I read. I also did other lovely newlywed-related activities; I learned to shoot an arrow (incase my new husband should try to run away) and drive a segway. I also spent many a hilarious hour trying to teach a very long-limbed man how to row a boat, and got bitten in the face by a dog (she didn’t like strangers touching her back end – girl after my own heart) as well as partook in other honeymoon specific activities (….bamchicawowow). But apart from all that exertional activity, I read.
I used to read an awful lot. I spent my entire childhood in books which eventually led to my degree in English Literature and Creative Writing. However what with the invention of Netflix and highly portable internet devises, my reading time began to twindle but recently I started to fear that my brain was becoming an addled mess of Americanised smush. So I packed my hand luggage full of trusty books (don’t get me started on Kindles) and lugged them all the way to Scotland (where, luckily for me, internet was not in infinite supply).
This leads me to my point (knew I’d get there eventually): Reviews! I am great at criticising, being critical is a particular talent of mine, consider me blessed with the infinitely arched eyebrow (figuratively speaking, I actually can’t raise one eyebrow, I’ve spent hours of my life trying, it really feels like something I should be able to do). So I shall be reviewing each of the books I read during my Scottish retreat, starting with The Strange and Beautiful Sorrows of Ava Lavender, by Leslye Walton.