A Good Book is Hard to Find

Stopped at the library on my way home from work yesterday and picked up an armload of books.

But I'm in one of those hard-to-please moods. Already have set aside the Sherlock Holmes re-do (I feel guilty about reading any Holmes that isn't original, except for the Laurie King version that imagines Holmes married to a smart, clever feminist) and the mystery that starts off with a great opening scene (of a stuntwoman falling from a mesa into a grove of trees when the crane holding her wire slips) but then degenerates from there into using Zen Buddhism as a foil for the character's psychological fear of the woods (I skimmed ahead and saw too many references to "But you are afraid of the woods" for me to continue).

Staring at me next is The Places in Between by Rory Stewart. Great cover art and a blurb that makes it sound worth trying: "A mature debut, and an intelligent and illuminating introduction to this fascinating country," Afghanistan. Looks good. But I'm in the mood for easy, relaxing reading.

Maddhur Jaffrey's Climbing the Mango Trees was perfect: a bit memoir, a bit historical, a bit family drama, and lots about food. I don't think it's really bedtime reading, but I'm giving Gale Gand's One Last Bite (a desert cookbook) a try. Gand is a pastry chef in Chicago who makes the best root beer. Maybe there'll be enough narrative to make this one a go while I continue the hunt for a good book.