Two of the same question seem to need answers. What am I reading?
I have a nice sized pile of books guaranteed to stretch my brain, but I’m reading around them. With a guilty conscience, I may add. There’s a mountain of Civil War books, there’s a scattering of history, there’s art here or art there, but I reach for the cotton candy.
Mysteries. I just finished a well written cliff hanger by Dana Stabenow. I have a couple of new mysteries up beside my bed too. Before that I read all Elizabeth Moon’s space operas. They were truly so well written that I never noticed the world around me while I was reading.
Some kind person donated Nancy Pearl’s ”Book Lust,” and “More Book Lust” to the store. She offers “recommended reading for every mood, moment, and reason.” I don’t have to have a reason, but I was amused to find she loved many of the cotton candy authors I do. Elizabeth Cadell will nurture the soul when the body is down with a cold. DE Stevenson can wrap you around her little finger with her characterizations. Both now require digging in ABE Books or Alibris to find those volumes that you just have to read.
Pearl also recommends other authors I normally wouldn’t read but now will give them a try because she suggested them. For instance, I’m not much for modern fiction. I hate unhappy endings or the early deaths of characters I’ve grown to love. Non-fiction is a different matter. I was one of those kids who read backs of cereal boxes, and now today I read almost anything. I grab at memoirs and journals of women, for instance. Good travel books too. Michael Palin ended up being a good author despite himself.
What am I reading? Mysteries this week, but who knows what will happen next week.