This book has been sitting on my shelf in the vast and ever growing “to be read pile” for some time. Linda and I had started planning another imaginary vacation (it’s never imaginary during the planning and discussing phase but in reality I’ve still never been anywhere) and decided on London with a side trip to Hay-on-Wye (obviously). It got me pulling out my collection of travel guides and this book came to mind.
I’m not a big Anna Quindlen fan but reading this made me realize how much I have in common with her due to very similar reading tastes in childhood and beyond. Basically she loves everyone I love author wise and writes about visiting as many literary landmarks in London as possible. I’ve always wanted to go to London and this book did nothing but increase my frustration at my inability to make any travel plans a reality. Sigh.
