What are you fuckers reading now?

Read a book today called "Hamlet is not OK" by an Australian author RA Spratt. Checking on Amazon, the author appears to have previously written for children but this is a brilliantly funny take on Hamlet; firstly with the heroine being transported to his palace in Denmark and then bringing him back to modern Australia. Definitely aimed at an adult/young adult market by a talented writer. Read it in one go in about 3 hours.
 
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Plobán (plub-awn): a hole hollowed out by the hooves of beasts, then filled with rain.

The Irish language is so beautiful.
 
Twelve Nights at Rotter House by J.W. Ocker. Creepy! Fata, you might like this one.

"Felix Allsey is a travel writer with a keen eye for the paranormal, and he's carved out a unique, if only slightly lucrative, niche for himself in nonfiction; he writes travelogues of the country's most haunted places, after haunting them himself.
When he convinces the owner of the infamous Rotterdam Mansion to let him stay on the premises for two weeks, he believes he's finally found the location that will bring him a bestseller. As with his other gigs, he sets rules for himself: no leaving the house for any reason, refrain from outside contact, and sleep during the day.
When Thomas Ruth, Felix's oldest friend and fellow horror film obsessive, joins him on the project, the two dance around a recent and unspeakably painful rough-patch in their friendship, but eventually fall into their old rhythms of dark humor and movie trivia. That's when things start going wrong: screams from upstairs, figures in the thresholds, and more than what should be in any basement. Felix realizes the book he's writing, and his very state of mind, is tilting from nonfiction into all out horror, and the shocking climax answers a question that's been staring these men in the face all along: In Rotter House, who's haunting who?"
 
You guys are all reading the heavy stuff and I’m reading Icebreaker 🤦🏼‍♀️ I was in the mood for smut 🤷🏼‍♀️
 
My bookcases are going to stage an intervention if I don't start reading again. Apart from The Exorcist, which still shit me up, I've read nothing for nearly a month.
 
Re-reading Peter Straub's Ghost Story, great eerie atmosphere throughout, and the Fenny Bates flashback still creeps me out.

As an aside, the difference between reading it in my teens and now is...I now know Stella Hawthorne is a hotwife.
 
A poetry book for cats by cats.


A political/religious person's memoirs.


And a general's memoirs with another waiting in the wings.


And some novel I got bored with halfway through.


And shit I get curious about an Google.


And a bit of this dreck on here . . . .
 
Twelve Nights at Rotter House by J.W. Ocker. Creepy! Fata, you might like this one.

"Felix Allsey is a travel writer with a keen eye for the paranormal, and he's carved out a unique, if only slightly lucrative, niche for himself in nonfiction; he writes travelogues of the country's most haunted places, after haunting them himself.
When he convinces the owner of the infamous Rotterdam Mansion to let him stay on the premises for two weeks, he believes he's finally found the location that will bring him a bestseller. As with his other gigs, he sets rules for himself: no leaving the house for any reason, refrain from outside contact, and sleep during the day.
When Thomas Ruth, Felix's oldest friend and fellow horror film obsessive, joins him on the project, the two dance around a recent and unspeakably painful rough-patch in their friendship, but eventually fall into their old rhythms of dark humor and movie trivia. That's when things start going wrong: screams from upstairs, figures in the thresholds, and more than what should be in any basement. Felix realizes the book he's writing, and his very state of mind, is tilting from nonfiction into all out horror, and the shocking climax answers a question that's been staring these men in the face all along: In Rotter House, who's haunting who?"
Don't read this book. It was terrible.
 
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