I just finished rereading Watership Down, which I found on my sister’s bookshelf last weekend and embraced like a long lost friend. (Actually, I seem to have stolen it. Um, thanks Sandy. I’ll return it… sometime.)

After I turned the final pages and said goodbye to the trustworthy Hazel, I picked up the next book on my list, The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing. But I just couldn’t manage the transition from rabbit folktalery to classical scholardom.

I’ve given it up and opened this year’s Best Travel Writing collection instead. Which, um, I also stole. From my dad. After giving it to him as a present for Father’s Day. (Sorry, Dad. I know you haven’t read it yet. But I’ll return it… sometime.)