Still on my rhythm as far as reading, though it looks as though I have four recent books: Hummingbird Salamander by Jeff VanderMeer, a book that reads like an unreliable narrator telling her story of descending into insanity (at least until the last few chapters) told in clinically bloodless prose that stirs the soul to apathy; The Thin Man by Dashiell Hammett, a story of perpetually drunk detectives and their perpetually drunk friends amusingly bantering their way through solving a mystery, more worth reading that that sounds, really; Blossom by Andrew Vachss, a novel about a career criminal working his way to proving an innocent young person innocent of murder/s, by proving the killer is the kind of predator the career criminal hates, satisfactory if not literary; The Book of Strange New Things by Michel Faber, litfic that wants the reader to believe that it's SF, but it really didn't think the SF through, so it's borderline incoherent and kinda a muddy mess.