I spent the day in bed reading, as I’m wont to do when I’m all sniffly and sick.  I finished off M. T. Anderson’s Octavian Nothing, which was mostly brilliant (the book, not my finishing it*), and started on Charles de Lint’s Widdershins, because de Lint is, like Haruki Murakami, perfect sick-in-bed light reading.
I’m about [...]