On my shelves sit lots of books, waiting for the "right" time to read them. By right time I don't mean Christmas, or the summer holiday, or a wartime tale to be read around 11 November each year. In fact, I am not sure exactly what I do mean by the "right" time. Some books have been saved for a treat (I kept The Book Thief for 3 years before I read it as I somehow knew it would be a good 'un), some I read because I have a couple of days to go before the end of a month and I take a thinnie off the shelf. Fatties I save for holidays (great plane reading); or for a weekend when the OH is off somewhere doing his own thing; or the times I succumb to a head cold and I can indulge myself for hours and hours just reading.
And so, having just finished yesterday's newspaper, in it's obituary pages there it was - this Carnagie Medal winner was dead at only 67. So
Tamar has to come off the shelves. Another one saved for ages because it looked another good 'un, a tale of "..... a man involved in the terrifying world of resistance fighters in Nazi-occupied Holland...".
You can read Mal Peet's obituary here
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