A collective of bibliophiles talking about books. Book Fox (vulpes libris): small bibliovorous mammal of overactive imagination and uncommonly large bookshop expenses. Habitat: anywhere the rustle of pages can be heard.
I don’t know what it’s doing around your way, but here in the northern UK, summer is having a last desperate fling before the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness (aka: fog, wind and mud) really kicks in – the sun is out and warm, but there’s definitely an autumnal feel about the September garden with leaves starting to collect on the lawn, swallows and swifts hurtling around the house stocking up on insects before they head south for the winter and the smoke from a neighbour’s bonfire drifting over the fence.
It would be a terrific segue to say that all of our pieces this week also have a distinctly autumnal feel, but it would be an outright fib, so I won’t. In fact, it’s very much business as usual and something for everyone.
On Monday we revisit an article from our archives which remains eternally popular, judging by the search statistics. but I’m not going to tell you which one, so there. Come back tomorrow and find out.
On Wednesday Kirsty D enters the Dept. of Speculation.
On Thursday, Kate reviews Ben Aaronovitch’s interstitial comic-of-the-novels Rivers of London, the Peter Grant mysteries in full, throbbing colour.
And finally on Friday, Moira reviews a children’s book on grieving which contains more honesty, grace and wisdom in its 40 pages than the combined output of the entire ‘Death and How to Cope with it’ industry put together.
(Photo credit – Winkworth Arboretum – by ukgardenphotos on Flickr, reporiduced under a Creative Comons licence.)