Sunshine, books, Fish

Five days unbroken sunshine, in Ibiza since last Thursday. Plenty of paellas, beers in the sun, and a chance to read.
Read The Reader by Bernard Schink - do read this one, it's simply fantastic. Superb writing, and it raises such questions. One of those you can't finish then start another book immediately after.
Also read The Secret Scripture by Sebastian Barry, because it had won The Costa Prize. Remind me to contact the writer and tell him how an adoptee actually IS. (Nothing at all like his character). And remind me to ask him politely not to use adoption as a plot device. It is tired, cliched, transparent.
The book is flawed. The whole rests on the reader's ability to believe that an arthrictic old lady who can no longer play the piano thanks to her painful fingers, can find the wherewithal to write reams and reams of beautiful prose as a 'secret memoir before she dies.'
It also rests on one's ability to believe that this old lady (incarcerated for the greater part of her life in a mental institution) has exactly the same vocabulary/voice as her consultant psychiatrist.

I also came second in Fish. Which is a joy and a lovely thing. I get a week in my favourite place on this planet and e300, which will cover getting there.
Stereo fish, as a celebration.