In loving, living memory, John Melançon 1928 – 2007
Reading White Oleander, by Janet Fitch. Right in the middle now. Through to the end of Chapter 17, Astrid is at Claire's. (OK, it's official, I do not remember names. I just had to look up Astrid's.) It's been too long since I've read anything not online; read anything that is not politics or technology, Drupal.
It is good. It reminds me that I am moved by words, no by narrative, as much as anything. That I am made to care about the characters.