Autumn obsessions.
Oct. 14th, 2007 06:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tedwordsThe autumn always opens certain doors for me...things I don't typically do all year round, but just seem more fitting, with the change in temperature and the gradual begrudging acknowledgment that another year drawing to a close. I guess it's my own way of burning leaves.
Most of those things do seem to have a touch of melancholy to them. Like my interest in country music, for example. It only happens during the fall, and then, only for about a month. I buy one country CD--usually Brad Paisely. And after that, the country music is put back on the shelf, not to be listened to, for another twelve months.
When I was in the process of breaking up with Josie, and then, in the beginning stages of my relationship with Corb, reading Shakespeare became an obsession, during the fall months. Perhaps it was something about the drama of the situation, in the first instance, and then, the first flush of falling in love.
But this fall season, aside from the country music, I've had a burning desire to read mysteries.
The more lightweight, the better, for me. Josie tends to like grisly mysteries, involving much blood and gore, like Tami Hoag. But I tend to like mystery stories that are more bloodless in nature. When I was in high school, I loved Agatha Christie, and, even more than that, Ellery Queen. And before that, I always had my nose stuck between the pages of a Nancy Drew, or Hardy Boys, or Alfred Hitchcock and the Three Investigators. Jupitor Jones, solving crimes about screaming skulls in his grandfather's junkyard....that sort of thing. I could sit there for hours.
Last week-end, Corb and I went to our local Borders, and I made a beeline, right to the mystery section. After fifteen minutes of deliberation, I made my choice. Side note: that's why Corb hates going with me to the bookstore. I take forever deliberating over titles. It's like going to the bathroom, for me. I'm never just in and out, doing my business and that's it.
What I selected was The Ghost and Mrs. McClure by Alice Kimberley (actually, the ghost name for a husband and wife writing team). It's the first in a series called "The Haunted Bookshop," and I think it was the series title that did it. It took me back to the series I used to read in days of old.
I actually finished the book in a few days. Even though it was clearly lightweight fare, that's a rarity, for me. But I just kept reading: it was light, and fun, and took place in a small town in Rhode Island.
Yesterday, I went back to the bookstore and picked up the next two titles in the series. The next one in the series might have been enough, but I decided to push my luck. Fortunately, my reading obsessions tend to last longer than my interest in country music.
Most of those things do seem to have a touch of melancholy to them. Like my interest in country music, for example. It only happens during the fall, and then, only for about a month. I buy one country CD--usually Brad Paisely. And after that, the country music is put back on the shelf, not to be listened to, for another twelve months.
When I was in the process of breaking up with Josie, and then, in the beginning stages of my relationship with Corb, reading Shakespeare became an obsession, during the fall months. Perhaps it was something about the drama of the situation, in the first instance, and then, the first flush of falling in love.
But this fall season, aside from the country music, I've had a burning desire to read mysteries.
The more lightweight, the better, for me. Josie tends to like grisly mysteries, involving much blood and gore, like Tami Hoag. But I tend to like mystery stories that are more bloodless in nature. When I was in high school, I loved Agatha Christie, and, even more than that, Ellery Queen. And before that, I always had my nose stuck between the pages of a Nancy Drew, or Hardy Boys, or Alfred Hitchcock and the Three Investigators. Jupitor Jones, solving crimes about screaming skulls in his grandfather's junkyard....that sort of thing. I could sit there for hours.
Last week-end, Corb and I went to our local Borders, and I made a beeline, right to the mystery section. After fifteen minutes of deliberation, I made my choice. Side note: that's why Corb hates going with me to the bookstore. I take forever deliberating over titles. It's like going to the bathroom, for me. I'm never just in and out, doing my business and that's it.
What I selected was The Ghost and Mrs. McClure by Alice Kimberley (actually, the ghost name for a husband and wife writing team). It's the first in a series called "The Haunted Bookshop," and I think it was the series title that did it. It took me back to the series I used to read in days of old.
I actually finished the book in a few days. Even though it was clearly lightweight fare, that's a rarity, for me. But I just kept reading: it was light, and fun, and took place in a small town in Rhode Island.
Yesterday, I went back to the bookstore and picked up the next two titles in the series. The next one in the series might have been enough, but I decided to push my luck. Fortunately, my reading obsessions tend to last longer than my interest in country music.
