I found and began a good appetizer to a book I've been wanting to read a long time.

I started reading this in the garden today: 

"The Beryl Markham Mystery"| Vanity Fair | October 1984

https://archive.vanityfair.com/article/1984/10/the-beryl-markham-mystery

I always felt like I should read that book I saw it lying around the house a lot with it's significant Hemingway blurb on it when I was living in the Pacific Northwest. My mother really liked it but I for some reason could not get myself to read it. But of course I was a child and probably wouldn't have appreciated it very much. But I did read some other adult books.

I miss the Pacific Northwest. It's ridiculous that I haven't been there since I was in my twenties. It's absolutely ridiculous. It's so much a part of me. How could it be such a small part of my life and by now? This part is the sadness of having little money when you're an adult.

I have "West With the Night" and "Women Who Run with the Wolves" in my Libby queue. I read the latter when I was 14, but I don't think I retained much of it, or I think I could use a refresher.