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 7, 2013

Sidney Chambers and the Perils of the Night


'I'm sorry he was such a disappointment,' said Belinda, 'but perhaps he will improve on further acquaintance. He really is quite the opposite of Mr. Mold, isn't he? I mean, perhaps he doesn't have all his goods in the shop window.'

from Some Tame Gazelle, by Barbara Pym 
I wonder which is worse:  loving a book, or an author, and finding out that some of your bookish friends don't, or loving the premise of a book, and reading other people's enthusiastic reviews of it, and finding that it's just not really your cup of tea?  I guess all that matters that we can all like different things, and still enjoy being in the company of readers.

I enjoyed reading, but didn't love, the first Sidney Chambers mystery, and I was hoping that he would grow on me in the succeeding books {the plan is for six; this is the second one}. I just find him a little dull, and the books a little slow, and there's something about the writing that keeps me aloof from the characters. I did find myself wishing that Leonard, the priggish curate, could make a guest appearance in a Barbara Pym novel. That would be fun.

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