(no subject)

Never mind Harry Potter. The new Dick Francis is out in paperback. And I'm all aaahhh arrghhh do I, don't I, do I, don't I, because late-written works are almost never good (the Greek of Oedipus at Colonus, I'm reliably informed because there's no way I'd ever try to read it now, is plain *weird*) and, you know, I want to remember Francis at his best. I shall argh a bit more about this and then buy it and not be disappointed if it's not good because actually the Halley books aren't among my favourites.