Some time ago, I asked six women whom I hold in high regard on many levels, but also regarding their taste in books, for their favorite books of the moment. From all of them, I received a solid list in the app where everyone recommended Zwarte schuur by Oek de Jong.

This shows the importance of good curation once again, because without these lists, I wouldn't have picked up Oek from the pile. It's quite unkind to say, but my mother already read Oek de Jong (Opwaaiende zomerjurken) and because of that, I immediately placed him in the same category as Maarten ’t Hart. Now, there’s nothing wrong with Maarten ’t Hart (kudos and praise for his oeuvre), but I prefer to read Arnon Grunberg, you know. Maybe it has to do with wanting to discover your own heroes. The cover also wasn’t an immediate temptation for me, but I bought the book nonetheless.

And now? Now I’m hooked, or better said: booked. Almost from the second sentence. Urban Amsterdam paired with New York and the Zeeland islands, art, a murder (I still can’t believe it) and more misery that looms and will explain why Fran is so sad. I feel a film. So if you’re looking for something to kill some corona time: this is a recommendation with a capital A.