WTF?

I haven’t been on Twitter since the bathroom sink guy took over. My somewhat pathetic protest against him being such a complete wanker. I don’t imagine any of my handful of followers have noticed, given how seldom I actually post anything. 

Although I do follow some politicos and journos, mostly I follow writers I like. They’re all pretty generous with book recommendations. Thanks to the first few I followed (Rankin, Brookmyre and McKinty) I have discovered and now follow other writers I’ve come to love. (Except Mick Herron who has never set foot in the Twitterverse.) So I’ve no doubt missed out on some good recommendations, but that seemed a small price to pay for taking a stand (ha, ha) against the deranged new owner.

This week I was forced to log in again because it is the only way to communicate with Ian Rankin. 

I received a copy of his latest novel, A Heart Full of Headstones, for my birthday in November. Usually this would mean setting aside everything else in the pile of bedside books whilst I devoured Rebus, but I surprised myself by deciding to save it this time. So it became the book I started on Christmas Eve.

Obviously this was the Boxing Day leftovers dinner.

I am going to try my best to avoid spoilers, so let’s just say I was utterly gobsmacked when I got to the end. So much so that I quickly put a note on Facebook asking if anyone else had finished it as I needed to talk. My friend Jane replied that she’d be finished soon.

Before calling her to discuss the “situation” I decided I really was going to have to get back on Twitter to see what Rankin had to say for himself. Give him credit, he replied fairly quickly.

And, yes, I did concede there was a certain inevitably. That said, and as Jane and I have now said to one another, seriously, what the fuck?