"Half-Blood Blues" by Esi Edugyan

I credit this book with getting me out of my reading slump. I also partially blame it for getting me into my reading slump in the first place. 

I can't even tell you how long ago it was that I started reading this book, although it's entirely possible that it was almost two months ago. In fact, I am SURE it was almost two months ago, because this is the first book I picked up after our February trip. 

I already explained in my previous post that there were extenuating circumstances as I was attempting to read this book (in short, not enough time spent reading, and specifically not enough time per book) which definitely did not help my initial reading experience. I remember that I liked this book immediately, but I also remember that it took me a while to get into it. I think maybe it wasn't just my time that was too chopped up, but also the story itself. I don't think I'm atypical when I say I find a good stopping point (like the end of a chapter) between reading sessions. This book starts in Paris in 1940 (and then Part I ends, so I stopped reading for the day). The next time I picked up the book, it was Berlin in 1992 and it took me a minute to reorient myself. Then during my next session it was Berlin in 1939. Whiplash! Under normal circumstances I don't think this would have bothered me a bit--I like it when books jump around. But while I wouldn't necessarily describe recent circumstances as "abnormal," neither would I describe them as ideal. I probably would have done better with something shorter, lighter, and more straightforward. 

It's a good thing that I found my stride in Berlin in 1939. This is where the main character, Sid Griffiths, begins debating with the other members of the Hot-Time Swingers whether it's time to leave Germany and head to Paris--partly for their own safety, but mainly for the chance to record with Louis Armstrong, a possibility that opened up thanks to the band's young trumpet prodigy, Hieronymus Falk. The choice is complicated by escalating danger and shifting loyalties within the group, forcing them to weigh musical ambition against survival. 

Remember when I said I liked this book immediately? There was something else I also noted immediately (literally in the first paragraph): it is written in such a heavy vernacular, one that is so strong and so American-sounding, that I wondered how it could possibly be adapted for another country's language. It must have been very difficult to translate this book from English to the 9 other languages it has been published in. 

“Slow Horses” by Mick Herron

I have just begun to poke my head up out of a reading slump, the likes of which I had never seen before. 

I never entirely quit reading, but I did temporarily seem to lose my love for it. This was partly due to my choice of reading material: I undertook too many books at once, and not enough of them were fun. (I am currently reading a HUGE cookbook--not by Melissa Clark, for once!; two works of non-fiction, which is not my favorite genre in the best of times, and it doesn't help that these two are a bit chunky and a bit dense and don't take kindly to divided attentions; and I also had some literary fiction going, which I'll be blogging about next.) It was also due to misplaced priorities: instead of spending our evenings reading as usual, we got sucked into watching The Night Manager (both the 2014 season and the new one that just came out--which, by the way, had an ending that I still haven't come to terms with). 

In the meantime--during the aforementioned slump--I have been enjoying the books from Mick Herron's Slow Horses series, reading a little bit from them at bedtime every night. It's been like a little treat at the end of my day more than anything else. 

I actually finished the first book several weeks ago, the second book a few days ago, and am now well into the third one, which is evidence that my reading slump was occurring in conjunction with a blogging slump. Even now, I feel I can't be bothered to give these books the full treatment. But I kind of think that's okay. It's like they don't really need the full treatment. It's not as if they're especially profound or thought-provoking. These books have good, fast-paced plots with interesting characters, and I've certainly been having fun with them, but it's been a completely superficial relationship. 

The concept behind Slow Horses is that there is a branch of MI5 (Britain's equivalent to the FBI) where agents are sent if they've screwed up badly, but not badly enough to be fired. These disgraced agents are headquartered in Slough House (which is where their nickname of "slow horses" is derived from), where they are meant to be exiled to bureaucratic oblivion, endlessly reviewing reams of boring and useless data. The basic formula for each book is that the Slow Horses uncover a real threat and prove themselves to be useful after all. In the first book, it's a far right protest group who kidnap a college student and threaten a livestream of chopping off his head; in the second, they dig up an entire village of Russian sleeper agents in the English countryside (this one was actually quite a bit different from the TV show). 

We've watched all 5 seasons of Slow Horses, based on the first 5 books; there are 8 books in the box set that we bought, so you have future installments to look forward to. Pretty sure none of my blog posts about them will be very worthy.