Disappointingly drippy

The cheerily named "Pineappple Express" has hit the area, and it doesn't mean sun and drinks in hollowed out fruit; well, it could mean the latter, to counteract the horror of the days. My feet were soaked from a short walk to and from the nearby little shops for grocery necessities and coffee beans, and it took all day for the skies to let up enough for my mother to get in a bit of an amble. So lousy the cat refused to leave the front porch, where he sat dejectedly on the welcome mat.
Margaret Laurence's The Diviners is still drawing me in, although the middle sections are occasionally a bit predictable. I suppose that has to do with its female protagonist leading an oft-repeated fictional existence of disillusionment, divorce, living as a single parent, getting worked over by lousy guys; of course this novel is set in post WWII in Canada, and was published in 1972. I should probably give the author credit for being among the first to use a modern -ish character in Canada; it's hard, though, when the writing doesn't always make it into the timeless realm.