Crime novels (a Norwegian Easter tradition, by the way)

I'm so in love with this Norwegian writer these days. I've enjoyed crime novels before, and especially those written by Norwegian authors, actually. But the books by Jo Nesbø (about a policeman called Harry) have got this little extra. Something... touching!

Like when the Harry's best friend (and police partner) dies. She used to have this bird with one wing, which she saved once when it crashed into her window. So Harry takes care of the bird for her. And keeps calling her after she's dead, leaving messages on her answering machine, telling her how the bird is doing, asking her what kind of food it likes. And he also tells her about his day, and how he can't hardly bear to go to work now that she's gone. And he tells her how the investigation of her murder is coming along. It's so sweet! And so, so sad! The last time he calls, the number has been disconnected. I got all teary-eyed at that... This character is so alive to me that I feel like I know him. Like he's a good friend of mine. So when he's sad, I'm sad. And right now he's saaaaad! And I'm still ill, so that suits me quite well.

Anyway, I've read three of Nesbø's books in just a few weeks, and have only about a hundred pages left of the fourth, which is the last on I own. Which means I have to get to a bookstore later today and buy the next couple of the books. I don't care if my room is full, and that the bookcases threaten to cave under the (immense!) pressure. I need these books! And I know I'll read them over and over, which normally isn't the case with crime novels.

In other news I had to take my cough medicine again, and still have that disgusting menthol taste in my mouth. Don't get me wrong, I normally like menthol, but now I've come to connect the taste to this terrible feeling of being dizzy and sick to my stomach and so, so weak. Like being really car sick! But I still need to take it, because otherwise my bronchitis will never get better. And my doctor's office is closed because of the holidays, so I can't get new meds without going to the hospital again. And I'm not sick enough for that I think. Anyway, I'll live. At least I can read again. For a looooong couple of days I was too sick to even read the title of a book cover. Moving my eyes that much made me feel like I was going to throw up. So watching TV was likewise out the question. Boring!

I really, really do hope I'll get to go to a bookstore later. None of the other books I'm reading can even compare right now, so I can't imagine reading any of them before having finished the entire series of Nesbø's books (8 novels + a short story collection).

Gah, the cough syrup dizziness is really setting in now. Best get to bed before it gets worse.