Beth mentioned comfort reads, and seeing as how Keven and I finally managed to unpack all of our books, that sounded like a solid topic. So -- comfort reads:
Dune by Frank Herbert: I reread this in its entirety about once every two or three years, and I find something new each time. I read it for the first time when I was thirteen-ish and didn't understand half of it. But it blew my mind. And to this day, it's just about the only sci-fi book I enjoy, which is strange considering that I really enjoy sci-fi movies.
The Apache series by Janis Reams Hudson: A former category writer, Hudson made the leap to single title in the early 90s with a six-part series about the Colton family of Arizona. Rape, incest, murder (including one heroine!), and a very strange family tree are complimented by delicious heroes and intensely researched historical settings. They read a bit dated now, but I love them.
Fire and Rain and Outlaw by Elizabeth Lowell: These are the first two in the MacKenzie series. I don't read the other pair because the secret baby plotline wears very, very thin. The contrivances are about as corny as they come, but Luke & Carla and Ten & Diana smoke with sexual tension.
The Mistress and The Drifter by Susan Wiggs: The former is the most entertaining of her three Chicago Fire books, and the latter is the first Wiggs book I read. A heroine addict? A Pacific NW setting? A female physician who doesn't make me want to barf with Dr. Quinnocity? Yup.
The Virgin Blue by Tracy Chevalier: Ahhh, Jean-Luc. Adultery has never been more appealing or so carefully justified.
Now that I'm looking at my bookcase, I see all sorts of books that I haven't read or intend to reread. A bloody shame, then, that tomorrow I start rewrites on RWS. Clock's ticking. Twenty-three days until nationals. I want a nice, coherent draft for my crit group by then, as well as my pitch for the appointments. I'll finish the new Ian McEwan novel tonight, then it's back to work.
Dune by Frank Herbert: I reread this in its entirety about once every two or three years, and I find something new each time. I read it for the first time when I was thirteen-ish and didn't understand half of it. But it blew my mind. And to this day, it's just about the only sci-fi book I enjoy, which is strange considering that I really enjoy sci-fi movies.
The Apache series by Janis Reams Hudson: A former category writer, Hudson made the leap to single title in the early 90s with a six-part series about the Colton family of Arizona. Rape, incest, murder (including one heroine!), and a very strange family tree are complimented by delicious heroes and intensely researched historical settings. They read a bit dated now, but I love them.
Fire and Rain and Outlaw by Elizabeth Lowell: These are the first two in the MacKenzie series. I don't read the other pair because the secret baby plotline wears very, very thin. The contrivances are about as corny as they come, but Luke & Carla and Ten & Diana smoke with sexual tension.
The Mistress and The Drifter by Susan Wiggs: The former is the most entertaining of her three Chicago Fire books, and the latter is the first Wiggs book I read. A heroine addict? A Pacific NW setting? A female physician who doesn't make me want to barf with Dr. Quinnocity? Yup.
The Virgin Blue by Tracy Chevalier: Ahhh, Jean-Luc. Adultery has never been more appealing or so carefully justified.
Now that I'm looking at my bookcase, I see all sorts of books that I haven't read or intend to reread. A bloody shame, then, that tomorrow I start rewrites on RWS. Clock's ticking. Twenty-three days until nationals. I want a nice, coherent draft for my crit group by then, as well as my pitch for the appointments. I'll finish the new Ian McEwan novel tonight, then it's back to work.
My glass is almost empty.
I read again between the lines upon the page
The words of love you sent me.
"Song for a Winter's Night" by Sarah McLachlan
3 comments:
My comfort books would be: Rose by Martin Cruz Smith, The Chronicles of Amber by Zelazny and the Harry Potter books.
I'm almost ashamed to say my comfort read goes way far back to my childhood - The School at the Chalet, by Elinor M. Brent Dyer. I read my original copy so many times it literally fell apart and was thrilled to find a replacement in a UBS a few years ago. Even as an adult I've turned to that book when I'm upset or stressed (like the time my dh was driving home through a major, major snowstorm on country roads in the deepest dark of the winter).
But I can also see how The Virgin Blue would qualify :)
Oh, and as for an adult comfort read, The Wheel of Fortune by Susan Howatch.
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