I read the new C.S. Harris mystery today. This is after I read the second-to-last one yesterday, because I forgot I had read it at all. Not because it's bad, but because the third-to-last one was so searingly good that the follow-up necessarily paled in comparison. Alas, so did this one. I AM glad that Harris didn't drag out some of her hero's personal life developments too long (SPOILER ALERT). I can't speak for everyone else, but it was patently obvious to me that his father was not, in fact, his biological father. When you keep yammering on about the family's blue eyes and the one black sheep's unusual yellow eyes, Mendel starts rolling in his grave. Anyway, it was a nice return to period mystery. I haven't been indulging in my usual reading vices, having been using the university library more than the public, and also having been exercising out of doors instead of on the elliptical. I think I'll give myself an injection of bad fantasy next.