Wednesday, March 10, 2004

I honestly have read more than "Poppleton" and that other book on my nightstand, "Jackalope," but not much more. Martha Stewart Living comes in the mail once a month (at least I think it will) and I read other magazines and assorted articles, plus many school related materials. I am in the mood to get caught up in a novel. I need to be so absorbed in my new book that I don't want to turn on the TV, or paint my nails. When I do find a book I like, "Poisonwood Bible" or "A Room With a View" for instance, I tend to become much too absorbed. Dishes, the dirty ones, accumulate, and children are left unfed. Good books draw me in and don't spit me back out until the last word. Even after I set the book down for the last time, I can still be drifting in that other world, lost in a new culture and dynamic. If the protagonist is picking peaches in a hot and fragrant orchard, then I will serve peach pie for dinner, and I will search my atlas for scenic highways that lead to quiet farms where orchards sit waiting for me. The aching sorrows, the colorful celebrating, the cold, the heat, the thoughts and emotions are carried away in every phrase and metaphor. I am in the mood for a new view and perspective, for the wide open plains, or the gait of a horse carrying a scout, for recipes and remedies, for tidy English gardens, or love and resolve.

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