A while ago a paperback in my local newsagent, called The Wangler, caught my eye. As a rule I avoid newsagent novels like some people avoid the fart power of kidney beans, but on this particular day I must have been feeling unwell because I bought The Wrangler.
Two pages in I began sniggering, four pages and I started losing valuable brain cells. It wasn’t until page 12 that I was stopped in my tracks by a paragraph which shouldn’t have seen the light of printer ink or felt the texture tree pulp. I thought I’d share it with you and impart a valuable piece of advice:
If you find yourself tempted to part with thirteen dollars on a newsagent treasure masquerading as a best seller, clutch your handbag and run screaming from the store.
Thus armed, you will never find your jaw plunging into your lap when you read a nugget of literature like this:
‘Come and sit down,’ Gus invited with a smile. ‘I’ve got your sugar and cream here.’ She noodled an arthritic finger toward the white porcelain containers sitting in the centre of the table.
– The Wrangler by Lindsay McKenna
Crumbs. I think I lost some brain cells just posting this.