I'm taking my lead from Simon today with a 'last books' list:
The last book I gave up on was
The last book I re-read was
Embers by Sandor Marai.
The last book I bought was
James Lees-Milne's Diaries, 1942-1954 as recommended on episode 1 of the Slightly Foxed podcast.
The last book I said I read but actually didn't
I have never done such a thing!
The last book I wrote in the margins of
I don't do that either - all my notes are on slips of paper tucked into the title page.
The last book I had signed was
The last book I lost was
Victoria Finlay's Colour: Travels through the Paintbox. I lent it to an artist friend a few years ago, and guess she has it still.
The last book I had to replace was
in my case it's 'will have' to replace: my copy of Henry Marsh's Do No Harm, currently on loan to a family member, has had its spine so badly cracked*, I noticed the other day, that I shall have to buy a fresh one for myself.
The last book I argued over was
I know not what; arguing isn't really my style.
The last book I couldn't find was
this. It's here somewhere, but vexingly I can't lay hands on it.
*Cue fit of the vapours.
