Have just finished Michael Asher’s Firebird, one of the books I got from Walkerville Library. It was an excellent story… right up to about a fifth to go. Then it got stupid. It was almost like he had this great story going and couldn’t really figure out a way to end up, and so added in this stupid bit (aliens; rarely a good idea outside of good scifi, and only then when it’s obvious they will feature) in order to bring it a not-very-dramatic conclusion.
Sigh. And I decided to finish reading that rather than jump straight into Fforde’s fourth, Something Rotten. My restraint is incredible… I’m writing this rather than starting it, even now!
