I love hearing about people's summer reading. President Barack Obama's annual list always causes a stir, as does crime-fiction-aficionado-President Bill Clinton's. Celebrities and book people of allkinds have been releasing their lists and I've made some good discoveries recently, though my husband is concerned about the towering TBR pile on my bedside table.
My family and I just returned from a week completely offline (no cell service, no wifi,...
. . . where you discover a new mystery series and you love the first one so much and you can't do anything else because all you want to do is read and every time you remember there are eight (!) of them, you get excited?
As a ten- ,eleven- and twelve-year-old reader, I was obsessed with James Herriot. I read and reread and reread again every one of his humorous and ultimately reassuring tales of life as a large animal vet in Yorkshire in the 1940s and 50s. While Herriot's character descriptions -- both human and animal -- are the element of craft for which he's best known, I always found equal satisfaction in his descriptions of the Yorkshire dales.