No, I Haven't Been Hacked. It's Really Me. And a Review.

So, Hi! The last time I post here it was the end of April. Wow. I thought I should check out my blog and make sure it wasn't taken over by Russian hackers or something. I actually couldn't figure out how to sign into my blog. That was a tense 30 seconds.

Anyway, how are you, my one reader who still has me in their blog feed? Do people have blog feeds anymore? I don't know. I'm not sure if book blogging is even a thing anymore. I feel so old fashioned right now. I'm so out of the loop.

I'm fine. I read my 6th book this year. Crazy, right? It was Wyllard's Weird. It was not weird. It's a sensation novel by Mary Elizabeth Braddon. It wasn't as good as Lady Audley's Secret. That one is hard to beat. Hey, let's review it while we're here.

Wyllard's Weird begins in Cornwall where a young French woman jumps to her death from a train. Or did she? There is some question as to whether she jumped or was pushed. The local coroner, Edward Heathcote, suspects the cousin of his old flame, a Mr Bothwell, who refuses to say what his business was that had him on the train that day. Things get sticky when Heathcote's sister becomes engaged to Bothwell. Is she about to marry a murderer? To ease his mind, Heathcote travels to the streets of Paris, and uncovers a cold case, the murder of an actress ten years before, that might be connected to the recent death of the French girl.

This one started out strong. Who's this French girl? Did someone push her? (Of course they did.) Heathcote is a competent detective. He follows all the clues. Unfortunately, it becomes quite apparent who the murderer is about halfway through and then it's just killing time until Heathcote reveals it all at the end. It's rather anticlimactic.

It's also somewhat frustrating to read all the digs Braddon gets at the French. You can murder anyone in France and get away with it if you have a romantic enough reason for it, according to this book. The Great French Detective gives up easily and is no match for this English amateur who solves a ten year old murder in a matter of weeks. There's a dose of victim blaming, although Braddon beats us over the head with the idea that even though she was an actress the deceased was as pure as the driven snow. (FYI, Braddon had been an actress.) There's also a subplot involving emotional infidelity and gambling addiction.

So, not the best ending, but there's still some good stuff in there. Wyllard's Weird was published 23 years after the success of Lady Audley's Secret, so maybe it's a case of phoning it in.

Ps- LibriVox reader Lynne Thompson is pretty good.

What else? I saw Wonder Woman. A+++ I loved it so much. I'm watching Twin Peaks. I can't even tell you what I'm feeling about that. I change my mind every week. Do I like Dougie or have I had enough of him? Not sure.

She's not sure either
I started watching A Handmaid's Tale. Yikes. And the final season of Orphan Black. (This week's episode broke me.)

Lots of TV and not many books. 

I think that's about it. I'm not sure what to do with myself or where you can find me. I'm pretty sure I'm going to delete my Twitter. It's just a dumpster fire on there. Where does anyone go to just talk about books? Litsy? Maybe try me there.