Snowed.

I've run out of steam recently. I'm still reading, but I haven't been able to find anything wonderful, and I'm just not having any fun. I feel like I've said everything there is to say. The Compound, by S.A. Bodeen. I liked the unexpected twist-- it's not just a post-nuclear sci fi novel. I didn't think the main character was completely realistic, but it was pretty good overall. It felt like there might be a sequel in the works, although it isn't necessary.  

The Book of the Seven Delights, by Betine M. Krahn. I've read worse smut. The main character is in many ways the stereotypical librarian (stuffy and prudish but wanting to be daring; stubborn and intellectually progressive), but she could be the heroine of any romance. The date for the book is never stated, but you get a good idea. The one thing that the author used to "prove" the main character was a librarian a) wasn't realistic, and b) got annoying fast. Whenever she encounters anything new or anything that flusters her, she gives it a Dewey class number: "...thinking she would trade her virtue for a cool drink of water just then. // Dehydration Madness... Tropical Medicine... the 610's." This was funny the first few times, and got annoying real fast. The author also has a deep love affair with ellipses. Beh.  

It's Library Day, by Janet Morgan Stoeke. I don't have much to say about this picture book. I don't think it would inspire library fanaticism in young children; it is really only appropriate for people who already love the library.

The Little Lamb, by Judy Dunn. I saw this on the new picture book shelf and did a little dance and squee inside the children's section-- this is one of the few picture books I had growing up. It's not a terribly wonderful book, but I remembered each picture just before I turned the page. ok, i'll get back to you.