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Loved this book. So ready to discuss this at book club. All I can say is it‘s a must read.

2018....read 29 books by 21 new authors.

2019....my challenge is not to buy a single book this year and read my TBR pile which consists of 116 books...starting with The Man I Think I Know by Mike Gayle.

"The Man I Think I Know" is a lovely story of male friendship and overcoming life's difficulties. It may be cheesy and predictable in parts, but it works and I've returned this book to the library with a smile on my face. Mike Gayle's getting 4 stars from me for this one.

Head over to my blog to see my full review using the link on my profile ?

A light afternoon read, a pick because it was an enjoyable read even if it‘s not my normal type of read.
Some nice messages in the story, but very neat endings and on a different day I might have said that made it a bit cheesy....

It is turning into one of my favourite ever books and I have read a few. Its a book about life and friendship. It builds slowly into something special. In tone and feeling it reminds of reading The Shawshank Redemption. Chapter 14 had me cheering and crying simaultaneously. Rich and clever in its writing, containing many quotable truisms and metaphors. Go get a copy read it, live it. Thank me later

all thoughts, no matter how altruistic, always end up being self-centred in some way if you give them long enough,

it looks a little eccentric or at the very least as though her washing machine‘s broken and this outfit is made up of the only clean clothes she could find.

I learned that if someone tells you to be on the safe side lots of times then after a while they do not need to say it. After a while you just say it to yourself in your head like, ‘I had better not do that, just to be on the safe side.‘

sometimes I struggle to get the thoughts out of my head because they are stuck behind one another like cars in a traffic jam

Martha kisses me on the cheek too, only she does not wipe away her lipstick afterwards. When she is not looking, I touch where she put her lips. It feels sticky but in a nice way. Like she has left part of her kiss behind for me to find later tonight, when I am in bed and dropping off to sleep.

I keep quiet and she keeps quiet too, until we use up all the quiet in the room so that finally one of us has to say something.

Even thinking about working makes me feel queasy. This I know makes me sound a lot like I have no ambition. It presents me as almost having given up on life. It suggests that I‘m content to just exist like some corpulent bluebottle basking in the sunshine on the windowsill of life.

The thing about work is that it‘s a habit. If you do it enough. it sort of sticks so that you feel wrong if you‘re not doing something.