But oh, I so wanted to read it. Called Bringing Saint Bridget, I think YA, set in Ireland in roughly the 1970s or anyway in the second half of the twentieth century. It was about a group of people sponsoring, or at least encouraging, one teenaged girl at a time to go around and do good in public in the spirit of Saint Bridget. I looked it up on waking but it doesn’t seem to exist. That means I ought to write it, of course, but I don’t think I can; I don’t know enough about Irish culture in the second half of the twentieth century. It feels like something Diane Duane might write, come to think of it.
The bookshop where I found it had a whole stack of glossy hardback copies, but they cost 70 euros and I’m not paying that for fiction, not even in a dream. I did have an excellent talk with the bookseller (or perhaps she was a librarian by then) about how good and evil aren’t dependent on culture, if something is really good it’s always good, and really evil likewise.
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