The act of reading ... begins on a flat surface, counter or page, and then gets stirred and chopped and blended until what we make, in the end, is a dish, or story, all our own.
— Adam Gopnik

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June 12, 2010

No one can resist the charm of such a mystery.

One of my favorite 'follows' on Twitter (there's a word - followers - for the people who follow you, but what do you call the people you follow?) is @AustenQuotes, a daily quote from one of her books or letters.  This one (from Persuasion, apparently ... I Googled it ... and referring to the mysterious Mr. Eliot) came the other day, while I was snugly reading Aunt Dimity Down Under, by Nancy Atherton.   I read modern fiction, classic fiction, biographies, some nonfiction, some essays, memoirs, cookbooks and food writing, and even some chick lit, but I love mysteries, especially series mysteries. Sometime it would be fun to try to list all the series I follow (or followed) many would there be? A lot.  Many, many hours of cozy, comfortable pleasure.

But after this book, I turned to Willa Cather, an author I've never read before. (Not quite right. I've never read any of her novels or stories. I did read a book of essays, Not Under Forty, several years ago.) I was prompted to read Death Comes for the Archbishop because Karen of Cornflower Books, one of the reading blogs I've started following, is hosting a group reading starting next Saturday. So I'll wait to comment on the book, but it was wonderful. Completely different in subject matter from something I would have picked up on my own, and still I found myself wanting to spend as much time as possible with this book.

On the other hand, Wish Her Safe at Home was overdue at the library, and although I think 15 cents a day is a small price to pay for finishing a good book, I just couldn't get into this one.  I think I'm just in the mood now for contemporary (or quirky) fiction. I might try it again, though.

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