My library books came in.
And one of them was The Gun Seller.
No, it doesn't sound like most of the other books I read, since I'm really not a mystery/who killed who with what gratuitous violence fan. And the cover looks like a blow-up of a comic book - really not my usual.
But The Gun Seller was written by Hugh Laurie. Yes, that Hugh Laurie. And I was curious.
And 29 pages in, I like it. He writes like a character in a twenties detective flick, all foggy street and dark, devious expressions. But sprinkled in are these really incredible descriptions, like:
But of course you would have got the message. Rayner could have swathed himself in shimmering silk and put an orchid behind each ear, and nervous passers-by would still have paid him money first and wondered afterwards whether they had owed him any.
By and by she was sitting on the hideous sofa with half a pint of what I thought was brandy but turned out to be Calvados, and I was standing by the door wearing my smartest and best 'I am psychiatrically A1' expression.
So I'll keep on.
Oh, and when you're reading a Hugh Laurie book? You can hear his voice saying the words as you read them.
And he speaks with an English accent. Coo-ee.