The Sleeping Doll

It’s been a while since I was taken in by a murder mystery and last weekend, I was.  Once again it was by one of my favourite mystery writers, Jeffery Deaver.

About a man hunt for a cult leader that escaped from jail except it really isn’t all about him.  That’s the thing I love about Jeffery Deaver, his twists, kinda like Jeffery Archer and Roald Dahl but even more surprising.  And with The Sleeping Doll, he had one after another coming at you that I couldn’t put the book down until it was all over :p  I was all inspired to reread some of his books but they’re in storage … that’s what happens when you’re in residential limbo.

Your books are in boxes and you’re left wondering if you’ve packed them well enough so that the silverfishes don’t get to them.  I miss my books.  I had a friend once tell me, I didn’t look like the kind of person who read the books that I read.  I wasn’t quite sure what she meant by that except I know that my taste in books are about as varied as my taste in music.

I pretty much enjoy something about very genre … maybe except romance … I haven’t read a romance writer I really liked unless you consider Jane Austen romance then yes, I’m into that as well.  Of course, I’m a fan of Judy Blume so yes, I am into romance too 🙂  That pretty sums me up, I’m the type who can pretty much find something good in anything, so it doesn’t take much for me to like anything but it takes a lot for me to love something.  Even Jeffery Deaver, I love most of his books but aren’t too crazy about the earlier few but pages bound together, for some strange bizarre reason, I really love.  That’s why I can spend hours in a library or a bookshop … hey, even the notebook section of a stationery shop can hold my attention.

That’s when I realise what intrigues me about life is potential and anticipation.  Hope, that is what rocks my boat and that’s why trailers and movie posters excite me as much as books.  My imagination has always been my best friend and what I conjure up in my little head keeps me believing in the real world.