I read the first post about the Thames and got wistfully nostalgic (I lived in Watford for six months during uni and spent every Wednesday in London. I still ache for it every spring. (Colorado is not nearly green enough.)). I meant to stop at that point and see what else the site had to offer, but the next post was about Star Trek and Serenity, and my (very prominent) inner geek couldn’t resist.

Then the NEXT post was about Raymond Chandler and I squeaked and nearly fell out of my chair. I adore him and his sentences (his SENTENCES) and Marlowe and pretty much everything about his writing.

To make this comment actually useful, I’m adoring The Madness of Angels, as well. I love how urban sorcery works (creating a ward with an Oyster card? brilliance) and the schizophrenic narration. It took me a few pages to figure out I needed to read the “I” statements and “we” statements as different voices, but once I did, the whole thing became about seventy times more awesome.

Sitting at work today, unable to read, is going to be torturous. But I can’t wait to dive back into Matthew’s story tonight. Very well done, Ms. Griffin.

(Though I hope the arrival of Matthew doesn’t mean the end of Horatio Lyle? In this instance, I’d like to have my cake and eat it too.)

Sincerely,
Jess

P.S. I’m slightly bitter that your spam protection is making me do math. Grumble, grumble…