'How pleasant it is to spend an evening in this way! I declare that after all there is no enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of any thing than of a book! — When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not an excellent library.' No one made any reply. She then yawned again, threw aside her book, and cast her eyes round the room in quest of some amusement. — from Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen (1775-1817)
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February 28, 2011

The page I'm reading now...


Dressed, she negotiates the stairs. The tiny cottage has very steep stairs, more like a ladder than anything else. 'I'll never be able to manage those' her mother had said on her one and only visit. Who's asking you to, Ruth had replied silently. ... The stairs lead directly into the sitting room:  sanded wooden floor, comfortably faded sofa, large flat-screen TV, books covering every available surface.  Archaeology books mostly but also murder mysteries, cookery books, travel guides, doctor-nurse romances. Ruth is nothing if not eclectic in her tastes. She has a particular fondness for children's books about ballet or horse-riding, neither of which she has ever tried.
      The kitchen barely has room for a fridge and a cooker but Ruth, despite the books, rarely cooks. Now she switches on the kettle and puts bread into the toaster, clicking on Radio 4 with a practised hand. Then she collects her lecture notes and sits at the table by the front window. Her favourite place. Beyond her front garden with its windblown grass and broken blue fence there is nothingness. Just miles and miles of marshland, spotted with stunted gorse bushes and criss-crossed with small, treacherous streams. Sometimes, at this time of year, you see great flocks of wild geese wheeling across the sky, their feathers turning pink in the rays of the rising sun. But today, on this grey winter morning, there is not a living creature as far as they eye can see. Everything is pale and washed out, grey-green merging to grey-white as the marsh meets the sky. Far off is the sea, a line of darker grey, seagulls riding in on the waves. It is utterly desolate and Ruth has absolutely no idea why she loves it so much.
-- from The Crossing Places, by Elly Griffiths

Though I'm only 13 pages in I like Ruth's house, and what I've seen of her. It's always fun to discover a new mystery series (new to me, anyway), and from what I've read about this one, its recurring character is 'prickly.'  So am I, sometimes. :)

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1 comment:

Val said...

Thanks for the extract..the description of the rooms and view drew me in and it's available at our library which is rather nice!

I enjoy reading mysteries as relaxation ..generally I prefer them not too creepy, not too grimy ...I like to be enjoyably absorbed and entertained and not feel miffed or grubby when I reach the end. If that makes sense.
I'll have to read more of your blog later or the family will arrive home and wonder what on earth I was up too ....:O)

Thank you for visiting!

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