I love books. And recently I've been thinking about how much they love me back. I commented on a Facebook status featuring a display of Julia Quinn's novels about how I spent a four day weekend at our lake-house in Maine reading her Bridgerton series from start to finish-- I think there were seven of them at the time-- while the scabs on my bald head healed. I'd just finished treatment for the worst of my cancer battles and was getting the worried, sideways glances. Nobody was sure I'd make it. I swear to you, I believe losing myself in that gloriously warm, funny, wonderful series was healing, nurturing, and helped me turn the corner.
I actually look back on that particular weekend with great fondness. Reading good books is, for me, a lush experience. Give me that lovely, earthy smell of the lake and pines. Give me a blanket over my legs on the dock, one pug nestled across a thigh, and a cold drink within reach. Give me the words-- a book open in my hands into which I can tumble. I may be the only person alive who would, knowing how it will end, gladly tumble right into Tom Riddle's cursed diary just because the thrill of it makes me shiver. Voldemort can do his best-- the idea of actually somersaulting down, down, down into the pages-- HEAVEN!
I've always loved books. I've always taken solace and comfort in their pages.
This past week I was feeling down, and once again crawled into one of Julia Quinn's universes. I read Ten Things I Love About You in a greedy, delighted rush. I'm also finally getting to the latest House of Night book. The experience was so delicious I have decided, very soon, to re-live my Bridgerton marathon.
Is there a series you wander back to re-read when you need to feel loved and comforted? I have so many-- but I'd love to add even more to my list! So what books do you love, and more importantly, which ones love you back?