Books

It has not been a particularly active week.  A trip to the doctor was the Big Event.  You see, just before they left for England with their mum, the Adorables gave me a small gift: a virus!  I have been unable to speak for a week, now. This morning I woke up able to make a few small noises, which seems to be the harbinger of healing.  As the simple act of speaking left my throat raw and swollen, it has been unusually quiet here.  Charles has had enough of a rest, however.  When I'm 100%, I'll talk his ear off, and he'll revert to not using his hearing aid and reading uninterruptedly in the living room!  He has been something of a saint about cooking and fixing me innumerable cups of tea, however.  Thank you, dear.

I have been digging into Agatha Christie during this enforced sit-and-wait-out-the-virus business.  Miss Marple and Inspector Poirot never fail to keep the pages turning.  If I see another crossword puzzle, though, I may start to speak gibberish and have to be carted off to a quiet place with padded walls.  There have also been some newer books in my stack.  I'll make a list of these,  some you might like to read yourself.  Note:  I avoid offensive language, gratuitous sex, and forensically graphic reading, so the list may be a bit bland for many tastes.

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society.  Mary Ann Shaffer.  It is very moving, a look at WWII on the island of Guernsey, off the English coast.  It is one of the few newer books that actually moved me to tears.

 The Writing Circle.  Corinne Demas.  This is a type of writing that is a bit like Anita Shreeve's style, less action and more psychological drama.  Compelling, thought-provoking.

The Postmistress.  Sarah Blake.  Another WWII book that moves between a small town on the Massachusetts coast and the War in Europe as seen through the eyes of a young war correspondent (a woman) based in London.  A letter is entrusted to her . . . can't tell you the details!  This was also very good, absorbing reading.

The Thirteenth Tale.  Diane Setterfield.  I read this last year, or the year before, but it was good enough for a re-read.  Mystery, scandal, creaky old English mansion . . .

I read several of Rosamunde Pilcher's novels, particularly The Shell Seekers.  I cannot stop re-reading this book.  There are others, of course, such as September, Winter's Solstice, and Coming Home.  All have characters who settle in your heart as you progress through their stories.  None like Penelope Keeling, though, of The Shell Seekers.

I am thinking about going through the Ellis Peters series, Brother Cadfael, which I re-visit every decade of so.  All twenty of them, read like a continuous long story, are as lovely both as history as well as who-done-its.  Life in Shrewsbury Abbey can be awfully eyebrow raising!

So, there.  Books for thinking about.  And a caution:  Avoid all school-age children if you can possible manage such a thing!