(no subject)

I've been reading Rosemary Kirstein's The Steerwoman's Road, and I am really enjoying it so far. This is the sort of fantasy that I was raised on: unsubtle (but joyful) in its presentation, careful and intelligent in its ideas.

I wrote that paragraph, and then I finished the book; I came to like it even more. Now I suppose that there's nothing to do except start my philosophy essay, or more likely sleep.