Shame

You know, I suppose it's really appropriately blogger-like to write a lot of entries about things I'm embarrassed about, but when I think about the number of posts that start with an admission or confession, I still blush. Still, these are not my true sources of shame, so here I go again, trumpeting my ignominy to the anonymous cyberworld.

Ready? Here we go: I'm really enjoying The Queen's Fool.

Yes, that's right. Philippa Gregory, whose last book made me laugh out loud (not the author's intent, I assure you), feel sorry for my fellow book club member who selected it, and want those hours of my life back, whose work I certainly would never have thought I ought to invest in again...she who wrote the phrase "the chase of sex that ends in bed," (TQF, p. 1), yes, SHE has drawn me into her damnable web by writing a book about the intriguing subject of Jews trying to escape the Inquisition and, well, persecution in general in the 1500s (a sadly losing proposition), as well as by creating a character with something some backbone (unlike OtherGirl Boleyn, whose name I don't even remember).

Whew! So much for a run-on sentence. I'm not that far into the book, but, in spite of that awful prologue, this story appears to have at least a twinge more subtlety than the brick-through-the-front-window that was The Other Boleyn Girl. I can't say I'll be running out to grab her newest gem, but I'm not disappointed to be reading this. I'll probably pick up something a bit meatier when classes are over in a week, and I have nothing to worry about but reading (and insurance, and a new roof for the garage, but you know. That kind of nothing.)