At least I'm making good use of my commute. I see it as an hour dedicated to reading and listening to music every day. In a week and a half I've finished a Megan Abbott and a Gil Brewer.
Abbott's 'The Song of You' is, frankly, not quite my cup of tea, though she crafts some brilliant lines. It's not a book I could love, but she hardly needs me to blow her trumpet anyway. I've still got 'Queenpin' coming up on my reading list.
Gil Brewer's 'A Taste for Sin' is another matter entirely. Very simple compared to Abott's lovingly crafted characters and carefully sculpted plot lines, but it flies at significantly faster than breakneck speed with one of those classic tragic endings that we love in a good noir. Predictable, perhaps, but classic.
And today I started Charles Williams' 'The Diamond Bikini'. At chapter 4 the plot hasn't even started but I'm loving it already. Hell, it's Charles Williams.
I find it helps to view the working day as an unfortunate interruption to my dedicated reading time. I've even gotten back to editing, and with a day off tomorrow hopefully I can get some more done. If I don't succumb to the demoniac liquors again and spend the day watching old film noir with a fuzzy head, of course.