|Abandoned Russian Cannon|
Glock: The Rise of America's Gun by Paul M. Barrett. I often like this sort of thing, but for some reason this book didn't work for me. There was something vaguely dry and academic about the writing that didn't appeal - the musty scent of mothballs mixed with Great Great Aunt Twyla's lavendar sachets (poor thing, she never did find a husband).
Wayward Saints by Susie Roche. I have this thing where I want to read and like novels written by musicians about what it's like to have been really cool and then aged into oblivion or playing the bar at the Holiday Inn out by the highway. Somehow, this never works out for me.
The Winter Palace: A Novel of Catherine the Great by Eva Stachniak. Of Catherine the Great? Not so much. I really wanted to read about Catherine the Great, but that's only tangential to this novel. The "real" storyline with the spy just didn't work for me. So much intrigue seen at so much distance. The glory, the fashions, the jewelry, the hiding in the linen closet ... Just not for me.
That's it for now. Remember, this is just one persnickety reader's opinion. Your mileage may vary.