I spent almost the entire day* reading A Darkness More Than Night by Michael Connelly. I started reading it on the plane home from France, but in the chaos of unpacking and getting back to normal life, I misplaced the book. By the time I found it, I had lost my place and forgotten so much that I had to start at the beginning again.
I enjoyed it. It's not every police thriller that ties in a Northern Renaissance painter. I wasn't so interested that I will search out another book by Connelly, but next time I'm looking for a book in an airport, I'll definitely pick up a book by him over most other authors.
* This is why I don't read as much fiction as I used to. If the book is good, I have a really hard time putting it down, and if I spend a day or two doing nothing but reading, I end up feeling slightly sick. It will do me good to get back to work tomorrow.
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