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I can’t stop reading Donna Leon’s, Death in a Strange Country. I read a little bit before work, if I have ten minutes or so, a little bit on my lunch break, and then in the evening. I’ve just laid in bed and read for a couple hours, which is a perfect Friday night, in my opinion.

I love Venice…so the setting is irresistible…but I also love spending time with Commissario Brunetti. I like seeing the world through his eyes, moving through the day with him, puzzling out the mystery in his mind as we sit in the casino or stand on his apartment balcony.

When I’m swept up in a book, like I am now, I find it hard to be a writer who is actively reading…I just want to be a contented reader. Still, when I’m so taken with a book, I realize I’d be a fool not to try and understand how the author has captured me. So every time I think of it, I try to zoom out of Brunetti’s mind and into Donna Leon’s. I suppose the main thing I’ve observed is that a good book for me is one that really does give me access to the character’s thoughts, feelings, and reactions. I’ve sometimes avoided putting too much of this in my own writing, opting for more dialogue and action, but I think that leaves the story lacking.

But that’s enough of that…now, zooming back.

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