I re-read Overseas a couple of weeks ago and loved every single line. On the first read, the tension was so incredible, I couldn’t turn the pages fast enough, but this time I was able to savor every wonderful word. Of course, one reason is…
I’m a southern girl through and through, and life’s a little less enjoyable when it’s too cold or nasty to be outside. But the upside is there are books to be read, and they do not have a minimum-tolerable-temperature requirement as gardening does. And on the coldest, gloomiest days, comfort books are the perfect companion. But to be truthful, anytime life gets troublesome, books are a quite fabulous remedy.
I really cannot confess in a public forum how many times I’ve read the first three books of the Twilight Saga, which were my most recent comfort books. Nor will I disclose how long into my adult years I read the Anne of Green Gables and Emily of New Moon series. The Shell Seekers has been on my mind lately, and the urge to pull it off my shelf is, once again growing almost irresistible. And Rosamund Pilcher’s short novels have also been frequent go-tos. Other books that I’ve read again and again are the first three installments of Jan Karon’s Mitford series. Currently, I’m slowly rationing out chapters of The Discovery of Witches for the second go-round, not to mention listening to the audio of Shadow of Night after reading the hard copy last year. Jennifer Ikeda’s narration of both those books is just fabulous.
Never fear, I’m not opposed to some therapeutic chocolate or doses of warm, creamy carbs when the need arises. But familiar books are like visiting my good friends and enjoying their stories--again.