reading engrossed with: The Name of the Star by Maureen Johnson. My morbid fascination with serial killers—which is at its height during my high school days—is being reinvigorated by this book. Loving it so far, what with all the Rippermania and the teenage ghost-busting stuff. ALSO, IT IS SET IN LONDON. How can you not love something that is set in London? :p
I’m strangely drawn to a minor character at the moment: Alistair, the Docs-wearing, spiky haired Smiths fanboy who hangs out in the dark corner of the library.
For some weird reason, the little twist about him made me all giggly.