Jewelry and book

A couple of weeks ago at lunch, I was telling a colleague about my frustrating search for jewelry to wear to the wedding we'll be going to in the US. I found a nice-enough necklace, but my search for good earrings was hopeless. Big and ostentatious is what is in, so after visting at least 4 shops, I couldn't find something that didn't look like it was something to wear on a night on the town or to an 80's party. Fortunately this colleague told me about a website where she'd bought a few pieces of jewelry (including the ring she was wearing). They're an art deco shop near Utrecht, selling just about anything in an art deco style (furniture, wallpaper, lamps), and I could order online, so no need to drag myself to another shop! Plus I love that style, it was just what I was looking for. I had a look at the site after she sent me the link and, though the prices were a bit higher than what I hoped to pay, there were some pieces I already really liked. In the end I bought a set of matching earrings and necklace, in silver and crystal to go with the black and white of the dress I'm wearing:



I really like them; O, who doesn't like any jewelry, said "At least it's simple." Thanks. At least he appreciates the dress a bit.

On another topic, now that I'm on to a new book, which I didn't choose but am reading for a book club which L has put together, I wanted to say how much I enjoyed the book I just finished, Saturday. It had been on my wishlist, mostly based on what I read about it when it came out. I've not read anything by Ian McEwan before, but I thought this was an excellent novel and I don't enjoy novels very often anymore. I think I enjoy fiction more when it's less serious or less likely to really happen, like Christopher Moore books or I really liked the last Harry Potter that I read, Order of the Phoenix. When I read fiction that has more of a basis in everyday life, I usually find that it's too hard to suspend my disbelief and really get into it. Either the characters feel all wrong, or their actions, and I'm just disappointed. But Saturday, which was very much based in everyday life, felt so real and so true that at one point I was thinking about how weird it is that this whole world can exist only on the page, that these people aren't real and what happened was all made up. The book is so detailed and so well written that you really believe that these people's lives are carrying on still. It's been a long time since I not only liked a novel, but also admired it.