A few weeks ago, I began to ponder my reading list. I finished up several books at the house, put numerous books on hold at the library, and jumped in greedily to the pile of books that came home with me. Then something happened — something unexpected — I slowed my reading down.
My usual rate of consumption is about two books a week sometimes three depending on the size and type of book. There are always weeks when I read more or less but for the last few weeks I’ve been reading about one book a week. This isn’t good or bad, it just is, but I started to wonder why. Then I realized what the culprit was — summer.
Yes, summer has been playing havoc with my reading. (I know summer officially starts on the 21st but it’s been hot in DC for weeks now so I don’t care what the date on the calendar says. When it’s 90, it’s summer.) Here’s the annoying part of my realization, I’m not a summer person. I don’t like to be hot. I like the cold. I love the snow. I can take 15 degrees. I can’t take 95 degrees. You can always put on a sweater. There is only so much you can take off. I usually don’t even spend much time outside when it’s hot. I scurry to my destination seeking the cool, refreshing, life sustaining, recycled air shot out of ducts that is probably going to some day ruin the atmosphere.
But lately, I find myself wanting to sit outside for dinner, take a walk after work, and sit in the park. All of which can, and most of the time do, involve sweating in copious amounts which I do not enjoy. Yet, I find myself seeking out these sweat inducing activities, craving them in fact. I’m coercing friends who have agreed to sit outside with me. I’ve drug my husband outside to sit in the evening sun and people watch. It’s baffling me. I do not get summer fever, winter is my season. But now I wonder…could I be a summer person on the inside? No, I’m sure it will pass.
This is my answer to my lowered reading — summer. I may not have as many reviews to share in the next few weeks but I’m happy to blame my summer lounging for this.
Time to wrap up. This week I read:
The Conquest by Elizabeth Chadwick. It’s an early novel of her’s and not bad although I’m beginning to wonder how much romance I like, and in most historical fiction, there’s always a bit.
Benighted by Kit Whitfield. I finished this up this morning and I liked it much better than her other book, In Great Waters. The world is interesting even if you’re not a fan of werewolves.
I think I’m going to start The Divine Sacrifice by Tony Hays today.
I hope to have reviews of The Crystal Cave and The Conquest up this week and possibly a My Favorite Reads pick. It’s going to be a busy week personally and something tells me that I may find myself outside trying to shrug off the work week at the local park people watching.