A few weeks ago, I asked my wife if I would enjoy Delia Owens novel “Where the crawdads sing.” I had given it to her for Christmas a few years ago and was looking for a good fiction read. I had bought it for her as it was #1 on the New York Times bestseller […]
Hey, y’all I was consumed with interest in Keith’s review on birdsong locations. What’s a crawdad? Darn, it ain’t no bird it’s a lobster or crayfish. Here, in Tasmania, we might call ’em yabbies.
Strike one. I slowly filled the bathtub, then stuck my head underwater with a live crawdad to hear it sing. No singing. Only the sound of the water surging from the tap. Thankfully the left ear grommet held saving painful subsequent ear infection.
I leapt out screaming as the near-boiling water began to scald my pinkened testicles. However, at the other end of the bath the crawdad slipped into a sleep from which it would not arise and slowly poached.
My incapacity to cope with pain might just be the reason I didn’t hear the crawdad cantata.
The capacity of a book to be a page-turner was included in the comments section of Keith’s review, and I quote,
“…Sometimes, I will look at how much more I have to read in a book, which is a sign it is not as compelling. I never did….”
Got me wondering, is there a PhD in here somewhere on the proportion of a book after which it becomes a page-turner? Perhaps then a full Department dedicated to the differences in genre, political leanings and home and beauty. Faculties devoted to the study cross-culturally of literature in different languages and scripts, mathematically adjusted for the right to left writing and complex matrix inversions for vertically challenged notations. Strike two.
Mmhh what to do. Typed in my library reference number 0116007775, then my phone number, and the title. Voila, there’s heaps of “Where the crawdad sings” available for borrowing.
I put one on hold.