Every now and then, I pick up a John Sandford pseudo-mystery (OK, they fit the genre, but are just a bit too predictable, mmK?). Usually, it’s for a similar reason as the one I picked up yesterday. My Wonder Woman had a flat, and, to my eye, it looked like a full-on replacement, despite the massive amount of tread left on the thing (when I got there, it was sitting on the rim and looked like it had been driven on it–not something I can really fault her for, and it wasn’t but for a fairly short distance).
So, I took it on the spare to the closest place I could get a passable replacement tire. Goodyear at WallyWorld a couple of miles away. Didn’t want to drive it far on the spare, because the spare that came with the–used–car is directional, and in the position it was on the car, it was rotating backwards. Yeh, yeh, I know I could have switched it out with another tire, but no. Not a big deal for a short drive, but this is the second time it’s been used in that wheel position, and I just did not want to drive it far.
So, as I said, WallyWorld. I hadn’t prepared myself for the wait, so I picked up a book there. The absolute best on offer at WallyWorld was a John Sandford novel. OK. Read the thing (>i>read most of it while waiting). Not bad but not much of a mystery, really. A few quirky characters did liven the plot a bit, but it was still something of a slog. Just not that good, and filled with things that, had it been a Kindle ebook, I could have “report[ed] content error” on many, many occasions. Putnam really needs better quality editors, IMO. Literate ones, at the very least.
*sigh*
Oh, well, I’ll always have the quirky characters–oh, and the descriptive narrative about the geography, etc. There are those, at least.