The last year or so is, to borrow from the mistress of dignified understatement, “not one on which I shall look back with undiluted pleasure“. As I think often happens with us humans during the more traumatic parts of it I soldiered on because there wasn’t much choice but in the past few weeks, as the cascade of dramas that began with my mother giving herself a life-altering traumatic brain injury and ended (hopefully) with an illness of my own, came to a halt, I had a minor meltdown. From the blog’s perspective (and if I am totally honest to my own deepest concern) the troubling aspect of this is that I have been unable to read more than a few pages.
In an effort to pull myself together, or at the very least tidy up a bit, I went around the house this morning collecting all the books I’ve started but not got more than two dozen pages into in the past few weeks. Apart from being a bit surprised to discover just how many spots I’ve found to attempt to read (it’s a pretty small house) I was disturbed to find there were 21 books in a part-read state. And I couldn’t tell you a thing about any one of them. I’d started to worry I had somehow forgotten how to love reading. So perturbed was I by the notion that this was to be a permanent state of affairs that when an advance copy of a book by one of my favourite authors arrived a couple of weeks ago I hid it in the linen cupboard (don’t ask). If I couldn’t read that book my obviously addled brain thought, then I might never read again.
This morning was a glorious one here in my corner of the globe and I took myself off to a nearby coffee shop to sit in the early morning sunshine and embark upon the latest adventures of 1930’s artist, social activist and crime solver Rowland Sinclair. Two coffees and some raisin toast later I was half-way through the book before I reluctantly gave up my coveted spot and proceeded to the chores that Saturday mornings demand. I finished the book this afternoon.
So it seems my love of reading only took a hiatus. A review of Sulari Gentill’s A MURDER UNMENTIONED will be forthcoming a little closer to the novel’s release date of November 1st. In the interim I offer a virtual but heartfelt thank you to its talented author and her delightful creations for enabling me to be back where I feel most at home. With my nose buried in a book.