I trav­eled to Bris­bane, deter­mined to finish Grave. Toronto to Bris­bane is a long flight (or long, at least, in North Amer­ican terms, and very long if one absolutely hates being on a plane, which your author emphat­i­cally does). On the first leg of the journey, I sat beside a young man who pretty much spent the entire flight to LA coughing. Or sleeping. Or coughing in his sleep. This did not fill me with confi­dence, but it’s not like I could get up and switch seats — these days, all flights appear to be full. I arrived in Bris­bane after — yes — the longer of the two flights. (I almost wept when I checked ‘how much longer will this flight last’ and found that the ten hours I was certain I had already spent … Continue reading →