Bookwise, that is.
I'm in one of those moods where I pick up a book, read a couple of pages, then let it fall listlessly from my hand where it falls to the hand-woven Indian carpet beneath the chaise longue. I am not cheered even when my primitive manservant Gustav plies me with Siberian delicacies. It all seems so tedious.
What books do you recommend to pull me from this slough of despond? Fluffy, my friends. I'm looking for good plot and good humor and no socially redeeming insight whatsover.
It's that or the laudanum. I await your response.