I've been sick with a cold today, drinking tea and tending to myself. How appropriate, then, that I finish reading Sharp Objects tonight. The book reads like a Faulknerian nightmare with a family so broken, a protagonist so feeble and self-destructive, one wonders how in the world she could function at all at her newspaper job! I think even Flynn realizes this halfway through, inserting an explanation for the reader. After reading this, you'll feel like taking a long shower. And locking the medicine cabinet.