Winter reading

My recent reading habits have been frustrated and frustrating. Last week, I re-read three Robin Hobb fantasy novels, and once finished, felt fairly unfulfilled. Usually I adore Robin Hobb. I tried 'A Confederacy of Dunces', which is usually ten kinds of brilliant, but just UNREADABLE when the temp gets below 5 degrees C. I know some readers yak on about how warming it is to read about sunny Jamaican summers and beach holidays in Thailand when the mercury is devastatingly low - but I respectfully don't get it.

As soon as I have to pull on an extra cardi and coax the dog onto my feet of a night, my sun-scorched American favourites - McCarthy, Faulkner, and any number of civil war epics - are quickly replaced by English classics. Maybe it's to do with drinking so much more tea in winter. Perhaps my cold weather clothes make me prudish, and I can't handle too much raunchiness or violence. I have no real wish to read about Arctic fishing or Soviet gulags, so I don't think the cold climate is the drawcard.

My reading list thus far...

Mariana by Monica Dickens: nearly the loveliest love-story-meets-coming-of-age novel I own, next to I Capture the Castle and The Pursuit of Love. It also has hunting in it, and a hard woman to hounds, stirring childhood memories of hand-me-down 1940s pony books.

A Room With a View by E.M. Forster: A bit silly, but a bit lovely at the same time. I really need to search out a Bill Amberg for Penguin edition oneday: http://www.penguin.co.uk/static/cs/uk/0/penguin_sets/billamberg_collection.html

And, of course...

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte (can't get those little dots, dammit...): I'm up to the bit where Jane throws a preachy tantrum and runs away from Thornfield. It's a silly, soppy novel, but I love the characters, the gothic tropes, and of course, the Ending.

Next on the agenda...

The Crimson Petal and the White by Michael Faber: This will be yet another re-read, but a necessary one, as I'm going to pre-order the miniseries from UK-land as soon as my bank account recovers from last week's horse-related splurge.

Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro: Not a re-read, very much looking forward to reading. Doesn't quiiiiite fit in comfort lit category, but I think it'll go down just dandy with a cup of tea and a delicious biscuit.

The Collie

I love poetry (BYRON BYRON BYRON BYRON BYRON BYRON BYR

ON BYRON BYRON). And ever since that miniseries on the Pre-Raphaelites came out last year I have had naughty dreams about Rossetti (but who doesn't?). That said, I don't want to be a poet's bitch. Look what happened to Caroline Lamb and Lizzy Siddal. So, I've decided to write more poetry myself. Here's one I've written about my dog Bridey. One of my more original pieces, I think. The Collie Collie! Collie! slightly fat On the lounge room rug you’re sat, What nommy treat will you try To sate thy fearful appetite? In which distant neighbour’s home Did you bury your pork bone? On whose lawn did last you poo? Where did you hide my ballet shoe? And what brush, and what spray, Could take the burrs out of your tail? And, when thy bark begins to sound, What dread hand forged thee fluffy hound? What the collar? What the chain? In what smelly thing hast thou lain? What the flea spray? What furry paws Jump and leap about my horse? When you smile you drool a bit, My feet are water'd with your spit. Did you smile your work to see? The hole dug underneath that tree? Collie! Collie! slightly fat On the lounge room rug you’re sat, What nommy treat will you try To sate thy fearful appetite? ********* I have far too much time on my hands. :(