In the mornings I write about books. In the evenings I curl up and read. At night I dream about bigger libraries. Amazing ones, with secret passageways and moving ladders and the most comfortable seats and the best books. Sigh.
Clearly this was an earlier novel, and thankfully she's gotten better with age. I guessed the ending as soon as I read the murder scene, including the subplot secrets. I might have to take a break from this series for a little while until it seems fresh again.