ness kingsley: writes, reads, rants & rambles
Yesterday, we ventured forth, and I showed the baby trees and we stood underneath outstretched branches - me for the umpteenth time, them for probably their first. (I don't know what the baby gets up to at night! They might escape and caper around the local park or dabble in communism!)
‘But’, he continued, ‘I am far too young and handsome for marriage. It is almost unethical.’
The sun would briefly shine through and I would think 'oh that is Heyer-esque' but then the clouds would roll back in and I was left with shadows and regrets.
Jean-Jacques was born. And everybody has been suffering ever since.
I don't like Christian fiction because I find that the veil that separates the sermon from the story is threadbare, and it becomes a didactic mess; Yesteryear has the same issue.
