Once upon a time I was sitting in an airport departure lounge and finishing the book I was reading. I hate flying. I am terrified. Truly terrified and so I need something to keep me from my impending doom. I suppose hard drugs would have worked but that's just not my thing so all that was available to me was alcohol and books and I had lost one of those soothers with the novel finished. I headed to the bookshop in the airport looking to top up my addiction.
But it is an "airport bookstore" and apart from generic rubbish and bestsellers there was nothing for a "thoughtful" reader. "lol- apart from "Eat, Pray, Love" and being a man, I would rather face a fiery death than read that.
With few choices (suitable for me) available I settled upon the "least bad" option. A crime novel translated from a Swedish author.
I really enjoyed the book. I cannot tell you what book it was, but it was by Camilla Läckberg. and I was hooked. Scared shitless about flying but trying to focus on the book which was good enough that it made the flight seem shorter. A huge credit to the book. I enjoyed it so much that I have continued reading Swedish crime writers ever since that day.
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