The Perfect Stranger (1966) by P.J. Kavanagh
A friend lent me this; it is a memoir of a young man's life - at Oxford, at war, and in love. I certainly liked it, and it was rather moving, but that's about all I remember now.
The Sittaford Mystery (1931) by Agatha Christie
I think my Reader's Block is FINALLY over, and that means my Agatha Christie binge has probably come to an end too. Whenever I read too many in a row, the plots have to be really good to impress me, and - well - I just read too many, I guess. So I liked The Sittaford Mystery and I think it was probably quite artful, but I didn't appreciate it as much as I could have done. I did very much like the feisty, no-nonsense, secretly-sensitive heroine who took on the role of quasi-detective. I think her name was Emily?
Inclinations (1916) by Ronald Firbank
Mike Walmer kindly sent me a copy of this, but I'm afraid I didn't have a clue what was going on while I read it. I love some books which are mostly in dialogue (I call Dame Ivy Compton-Burnett to the stand) but this one just baffled me. Luckily Karen/Kaggsy enjoyed it more - read her review for more elucidation.
Riding Lights (1955) by Norman MacCaig
Green Song and other poems (1944) by Edith Sitwell
Every now and then I think I should try poetry. I don't remember anything at all about these.