It’s still hard to settle back to normal life, and to get on with Book Three (same characters, visiting an English stately home). I find myself spending far too much time dwelling on Mousenet’s progress. Hours go by as I massage the website to arrange photos, tidy up links, and update the Big Cheese’s memo warning his subjects that a book is now at large that tells the truth about mice. Hours rummaging around in the Internet, where my current favorite site is “Fresh Ink,” operated by a bookstore in Cambridge Mass, where people between seven and seventeen review books. (Thank you, Ellen, 9, who wrote that “Mousenet is a great book,” and Zoe, 11, who would “recommend this book to anyone who likes sweet fantasy.”)
Meanwhile Henry is off in a site called World Cat that lets him spy on the catalogs of every library in the world, and sing out deliciously distracting gems of information like, “Sixteen copies on order in San Antonio.”
But one of these days I’ll get my mind back to Book Three, where I left Sir Quentin in the gloved hand of a footman, face to face with his first real duke. Got to get him out of there.
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