I've been confined at home recently due to a rather unfortunate, but no less spectacular accident. I fell. And I caused more damage to myself than if I'd been hoisted onto a 10-storey building, swung around and thrown back down, bouncing off every single balcony on the way.
Consequently, I'm making easy work of the pile of books I've acquired over the past couple of years, books that haven't as yet had even the smallest crease deface their covers. Not that I crease my books. But that's another story.
When you're suffering, you really don't want to work hard wading through words. You need something to soothe your aching limbs, to ease your cares and to give you something to laugh and cry about other than yourself. These did just that:
The first two were The Help and The Descendants. I'd actually already seen The Help on film. Didn't they stay faithful to Kathryn Stockett's words? Such an awful environment depicted so beautifully through laughter, love and hope. I cried. Again.
As for The Descendants, I really couldn't believe that it was written by a woman. Honestly. I in no way mean to be derogatory. I was totally convinced that I was inside a man's head. Maybe that's how all women imagine men think. Hmmm. It was Mr Clooney's head too. Sigh. I'm curious to see the film now to see if Mr C lives up to his character, Matt King. And I'm rarely curious to see the film of the book.
Next I learned about the (secret) life of bees in Sue Monk Kidd's book of that name. A nice, easy - and informative - read. Bees are amazing. Really. And jolly nice too, by all accounts. They've been coming into my flat frequently of late and I'm learning to chat them back outside. Instead of squealing hysterically and trying to beat them to a pulp. Maybe they come back because of my chatter? How will I ever know... Of course, the bees aren't the sole purpose of the book. They provide more of a backdrop on which the story is told. But the rejection, acceptance and unlikely relationships never stray far from the bee's life.
Finally, I loved The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. But then, I'm not the only one, am I? I love the title in itself. I'm one of those who can buy a book just for the title. And I love fiction through letters. Remember Dangerous Liaisons? 84 Charing Cross Road? My novel would always have been written through letters. Would have? I've been too lazy to get down to it. And yet, how difficult could it be. Seriously? Well, reading just these great books, I know it can't be easy. Just delightful.