Forty Seven thru Forty Nine

Things got a bit crazy 'round our house lately and it's taken me ages to add books to this blog. Plus, I've been working on the third book for ages...finally have some time for this project:

Martha Grimes is always a favorite. I love her characters - even the villains are usually lovable. This was the first of her Richard Jury books in a while that I didn't guess the ending to. And I was a bit disappointed that the ending was a little confusing. Not that I need everything tied up in nice tidy packages, but I really was confused at the end of this. May have read it just a little too quickly though...

...since my sister lent me this book and I was eager to begin it. Of all the shopaholic books, this one pricked my conscience the most. I couldn't possibly be like her, could ?! The endings to these books are always too tidy, but they make for a light, fluffy, quick read. Looking forward to Shopaholic and Baby which is due out on paperback on Boxing Day.


If My Father Loved Me was a big step away from the fluff I've been reading. And that might be part of why it took me so long to finish it (that and the busy-ness around here lately). I love this section from the opening pages:

...you don't feel yourself growing older. You reach and age - which probably varies according to your history and personal circumstances, but in my case was twenty seven - and there you are, fully formed. As time passes you note your failures and allow yourself to appreciate what you have done well, but there remains the inner indvidual who isn't aware of alteration either mental or physical. Inside my skin, a millimetre or so beneath the eroding surface, I remain twenty-seven years old. It's a shock, when riding the escalator to confront an unexpected mirror and be obliged to check the discrepancy...what is alarming is the possibility that when we do start to feel our age, it might all happen at once. What if we go from being twenty-seven to being sixty-seven in a day, suddenly getting infirm knees and crochet shawls and a fondness for Book at Bedtime crumbling away into old ladies as the light falls on us...

I've noticed quite a few of my peers blogging about this very subject. Interesting that we all seem to feel the same way!

Rosie Thomas has this marvellous insight which really made me feel like I was talking to someone who understood me. I usually can't stand 'coming of age' stories, but this one has so many aspects I immediately wanted to lend it to everyone I know.