“The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid.”
― Jane Austen
I’m rather snobbish about books and reading, oh not about what sort of books people read. Ok, I think 50 Shades of Grey was misogynistic crap, but mainly I don’t judge people for what they read. I have even been known to enjoy a bath time devouring an old Sweet Valley High book, just for nostalgia’s sake!
But people who claim they never read books astound me, and I’m afraid I do judge them. Books can teach us so much. Yes, living real life can also teach us, but books can take us outside our own small spheres, opening worlds we might never otherwise know.
Good writing can conjure up a scene even more effectively than a photo or a painting.
I am very fussy about books I read actually. I like escapist books, I like books to lift me, not tug at my heart strings. However I am still drawn to the bittersweet novels of Edith Wharton. Though all that I have read so far seem to end sadly, Wharton’s prose is so descriptive and evocative that the journey really is better than destination.
Anyway, my reason for this post is really to celebrate the fact that Betty seems to have developed my insatiable appetite for reading. Like me she is often to be found with her nose in a book on the stairs or under the bedcovers with a torch.
At a little over five her reading is outpacing her emotional development so I am struggling with what books to get for her. But I couldn’t resist these classics that I found in Emmaus, Gloucester, for 25p each:
Enid Blyton was my favourite author as a child, though sadly they don’t always stand up to the test of rereading as an adult. We have recently read the Faraway Tree trilogy to her and there is rather a lot of slapping and smacking for my liking. And Blyton demonstrates a clear dislike for outsiders of any kind. However the whimsical stories have captivated Betty and she has read each boom herself as soon as we finished reading it to her. Hopefully she will see them as historical pieces, describing a bygone era. Either way, she couldn’t wait to get stuck in:
And talking of historical fiction I have just ordered this for Iris for Christmas: