It's a quiet September morning and the rays from the rising sun stream through the bedroom window and all the way down the landing. It does this when we're nearing the equinox. I love it that I could make a good guess at the month of the year just by looking at where the sun comes up.
I haven't posted recently because I've been doing things I can't tell you about, such as spending time with my teenage grandsons. I would LOVE to tell you about their progress but I'm forbidden. I understand. I expect that soon Lux (9)
and Cece (7)
will be laying down similar prohibitions.
I asked a question on Twitter recently and no-one answered it. I retweeted, and still got no response. So I am asking you. Is literary fiction (i.e. the kind of novel that is entered into big competitions such as the Man Booker) supposed to merely engage the brain? Or is it supposed to engage you emotionally as well? I don't often read this kind of book because they usually sound so unappealing, but I am two chapters into A Visit from the Goon Squad and am so far not enthralled, emotionally or intellectually. Do you recommend that I carry on?
Second question - do you ever read a book that entertains and grips you, a book where the inside front covers are full of positive reviews, and you race to the end and put it down and think 'So what?' I did this with Amanda Craig's The Lie of the Land, and last week with The Mermaid and Mrs Hancock by Imogen Hermes Gowar. I'm not complaining about the writing. And as I said, they are both entertaining, and there is a heartwarming streak in the mermaid book. It's just that I don't find there is anything to take away from either of them. They are both books I will give away, rather than keep to reread.
I welcome your thoughts.