Judging by the amount of time I had it on hold, Sin City wasn't the good book I had been looking for to draw me out of my epic reading slump. Arguably a very fine noir with amazing artwork, but the two of us just didn't mesh. I didn't care enough about the story or the characters, which is saying a lot, because noir isn't necessarily the deepest literature you can find and even the most simple premise can usually get me involved.

Obviously, my problem wasn't helped by the fact that I decided to try The Sims 4 for the first time (better than 2; there, I said it), resulting in me spending almost all of my spare time building houses and figuring out the most entertaining way to get rid of my millionaire husband. But when a few days ago I started to get thirsty for books again and still didn't care about Sin City, that's when I knew it wasn't me, it was you Miller.

The two Jim Thompson books I just bought will eventually take me in their comforting arms, though, so no worries. Jimmy has never put me in an indifferent mood.