It’s been more than a month since I last finished a book. I’ve been swamped with work and (re)socialization that I’d always been too tired to commit to a book. The past week, however, I’d been (sick and) stuck at home with nothing better to do but read (Netflix/the computer screen slowed down my recovery), so I dug up Magpie Murders from my box of unread books. To be honest, I wasn’t quite sure if I would even be able to finish the book:
- I had never been interested in reading whodunnits (please don’t ask why I have the book); and
- The book was two inches thick, and I didn’t know if I could commit.
Surprisingly, I had made good progress after one day of reading. By the end of day two, I was a little more than halfway through Magpie Murders that I knew I could finish the book. I picked up the book again over the weekend and basically inhaled the second half of the book. I was pleasantly surprised at myself.
Then again, the pleasantries end there. It might be because I simply am still not interested in whodunnits, but I felt just okay with the book after I’d finished with it. Yes, I sped through it, but I didn’t fall in love with it. Thinking about it that way, I am a little disappointed because I have another murder mystery (The Word is Murder) in my tbr, and now I am somewhat less excited to read it. I have to say, though, Magpie Murders was easy to keep picking back up, unlike other books that my mood reader self has not had the energy to finish lately. It was a great book to read after my unintended hiatus, and I feel a little better knowing that Anthony Horowitz also wrote The Word is Murder; I’ll at least be able to finish that book, for sure.
Now I’m thinking that maybe I just need to give whodunnits another chance. Perhaps, but not so soon. I’ll pick up The Word is Murder in due time. For now, no real complaints; I’d just prefer to read something different afterwards is all.