I've been working so incessantly that I feel as though I have nothing to blog about. It's not the winter blahs at all; in fact, I like the deepest part of winter. I think all I need is to come up for air.

At the gym I'm reading Gilgamesh, by western Australian writer Joan London. A bestseller down under, it's not a light read, but London's prose flows so smoothly, my brain doesn't stumble while I'm breathing heavily. Set in the 1930s and 1940s, the story spans three continents. Sensational writing! I'll have much more to say when I've finished the book. I recommend this fascinating interview with London.