Le Thief, C'est Chic

For the past few days, I've been on the cusp of a cold. Maybe a flu. It's not enough to be any one thing (and therefore keep me off work.) Instead it's just enough to make me feel mostly cruddy, even though I've tried to smother it with NeoCitran.

So I am medicating before Muay Thai with tea and a book. Arsène Lupin, Gentleman Thief, a collection of short mysteries by Maurice Leblanc, was purchased on Dan's recommendation. It's the perfect thing for this kind of mood. Lupin appeared in 1905 as a sort of French, deliciously felonious counterpoint to Sherlock Holmes, who so far has made at least one appearance in the stories. Holmes' abruptness - perhaps, to Leblanc, his quintessential Britishness - does not contrast favourably with Lupin's élan. 

I feel like I ought to read these with macarons in hand. Unfortunately the cafe only has muffins. How very Holmes-y of them.