This still counts as the 15th, right? I mean, yes, it’s after midnight, but I’m still up! I thought about not posting, but I’m not yet sleepy, and I’ve missed too many times this summer already; still, since it IS so late, this is going to be a short review of a short book.
So–The Poet’s Dog, by Patricia MacLachlan. I’ve already talked about how much I love her–the woman can say more with less than almost anybody else writing intermediate fiction at the moment–but I suspect I would have loved this particular book more if I loved dogs. (Or liked dogs.) She does, I know; this isn’t the first of the books I’ve read by her that has a prominent canine component to the plot. As a definite cat person, however, I found this book to be a sweet little story that just wasn’t quite as relatable for me as her books usually are. That said, it’s still a lovely vignette on grief, rescue, and love, and I’m absolutely going to see if my second girlie wants to read it.
See? A short review of a short book. There you have it, folks. Here’s hoping our tired family all survives the day tomorrow!