Shantaram

We're getting back to normal around here. I did drop off the sheets and towels at the laundry yesterday morning, and I picked them up at the end of the day, all neatly folded in a stack. It's possibly one of the best ways I've ever spent £9.

There's not much to tell about yesterday at work. It felt incredibly busy, with my increased attention to getting overdue materials back before the school year ends as well as routine daily business. I felt like I was running all the time, until late in the day, when I was finally able to read a bit of "Shantaram" in a silent, empty library.

I'm liking "Shantaram," but it is HUGE. Like, 900-plus pages. I'm only about halfway through. It's frankly unbelievable in places, but then, it's not supposed to be a memoir -- it's fictionalized. I had no idea it was going to involve so many unsavory characters. I expected it to be all meditative and peaceful and "finding yourself." But no -- it weaves around Indian organized crime and black marketeering and gun-running, all kinds of craziness. It makes me glad I am merely a librarian.

(Photo: Graffiti on a portrait of Queen Elizabeth II by street artist Don, in Brick Lane.)