Writing here about books (and travel, when it’s not a pandemic, and hiking, etc., but mostly books) I often find myself referencing readerly touchpoints – books that were formative and that are still important to me today. In general, these are classics – no surprise there – and many are either childhood favorites or some of the first “grown up” books I encountered. But not all; some are books that I came to more recently, but that have left a big impression.
So I thought it might be fun to curate my “life library” on here – not necessarily my desert island bookshelf, although there might be some overlap, but a list of the books that have made me the reader I am. I’m aiming for one post a month, more or less, but it might be more and it might be less. Basically, as the spirit moves me. First post coming next week, and it will not be a surprise to anyone.
After that whole accidental library card acquisition thing, I swore I wasn’t going to go crazy with the holds queue. Just a couple of holds at a time – I promised myself – and I’m really only going to put in for things that have long lines. I’m not ready to go back to near-exclusive library reading. My own shelves are still calling me! Yeah, yeah, yeah… clearly, it didn’t work out.
In my defense, I only added about eight books to the holds queue, and most of them (the Kakutani and the Ellis Peters excepted) did have long lines. And I am determined, determined I tell you, not to add any more holds until this bunch is cleaned out. And then only one at a time. I mean it this time.
So I guess I’ll be reading Ex Libris, A Morbid Taste for Bones, and The Splendid and the Vile in the next couple of weeks. Then back to my own shelves, really. The pile of Furrowed Middlebrow titles seems to keep growing. I don’t know how.
Why, WHY, am I powerless to resist the library holds system?
I spend a lot of time curled up in my “reading nook” with my favorite classic novels, rediscovered memoirs, and mystery novels. But I also spend a lot of time with a kid – or two – on my lap, reading aloud. And while I’ve been reading more novels to the kids (especially Peanut) lately, we still do love our picture books. I especially can’t get enough of the combination of beautiful words and mesmerizing artwork. There are some really stunning offerings in the libraries and bookshops these days; here are a few of my favorites.
Kate Messner writes some gorgeous prose, and the art by Christopher Silas Neal in her “over and under” series (which now includes Up in the Garden and Down in the Dirt; Over and Under the Pond; and Over and Under the Rainforest) is absolutely breathtaking. I could fall into these books and just live in the natural rhythms of their world. Over and Under the Snow is absolutely lovely. Recently my cousin Jaime took her baby boy on a story walk through a local (to her) park; the story was Over and Under the Snow and, of course, she fell in love with it too.
Snow Birds, by Kirsten Hall, was one of Nugget’s Christmas gifts this year, but I think I might have been even more excited to read it than he was. It’s just beautiful – lovely, peaceful art and stunning kid-friendly poetry. Even if you’re not a bird nerd (as Nugget and I proudly are) it’s a lovely read. Destined to become a new family favorite for sure!
Can’t have a list of snowy season picture books without Jan Brett’s classic The Mitten, now can we? (Narrowly beating out that other classics, The Snowy Day, which is also beloved in our house.) If you don’t already know the story of a forest full of chilly critters who crawl into a hand-knitted mitten to warm up, get thee to your local bookstore and pick up a copy! I think both of my kids have read this in school, by now, and I have the pile of The Mitten-themed art projects to prove it. But we love it for home, too, especially piled up together under a warm blanket on a cold winter Sunday afternoon. Nothing better.
You certainly don’t have to have ankle-biters around the house to enjoy the peaceful art and inspiring words in these snow-themed picture books. What are your favorite picture books to celebrate chilly days?
Are you ready? Here comes what is – without a doubt – the silliest post of the year, in which I give high school yearbook-style awards to the books I read in 2020. It is completely pointless, utterly ridiculous, and I hope you enjoy.
Brainiest. I mean, come on. Clearly this year’s valedictorian is Barack Obama.
Best Looking. Robert Macfarlane’s and Jackie Morris’s collections of “spells” and artwork are stunning to look at. They’re the Elfine Starkadder of the 2020 booklist, you know what I mean.
Best Friends. Friendship to the max! I’m pretty sure that Jo, April, Mal, Molly and Ripley have taken this category before, but I mean, obviously.
Class Clown. Surprised that Shirley Jackson is actually hilarious? Me too. Although, to quote that rando psychiatrist that Phoebe dates in season one of Friends, analyzing Chandler, “I wouldn’t want to be around when the laughter stops.”
Biggest Jock. I feel like Georgie would be really surprised by this, but We Swim to the Shark was the only book I read all year that even touched on any kind of sporty endeavor, so she takes it.
Teacher’s Pet. St. Philip’s School in London boasts illustrious alums such as Julian Fellowes (of Downton Abbey fame) and I feel like quite a few teacher’s pets. Can’t you just see them, neat as pins, lined up in their freshly laundered blazers, ready for Mass?
Biggest Nerd. What is a nerd, after all? If it’s someone who loves something, like a lot, Jane Austen fans fit the bill. As a Janeite myself, I am ready to lean into this.
Most Creative. Perhaps this is a sign that I am really grown up now, but a country mansion and acres of wilding gardens strikes me as the perfect palette, and Beverly Nichols is the ultimate artist.
Most Opinionated. Union Jackshirt Aspect! Report for battle! Eugenia Malmain, Mitford’s sheltered and unworldly send-up of her sister Unity, is clearly the most opinionated character in the 2020 booklist. It’s a shame that Eugenia is absolutely kookoo bananapants, and that her opinions – like Unity’s – were utterly reprehensible.
Most Likely to End Up in Hollywood. I’m on record as not loving this one, but the cinematic potential is undeniable.
Biggest Rebel. Again, I think Jack Boughton has taken this category before. But he’s the dictionary definition of a rebel – if a sad one.
Biggest Loner. Hello, my name is Helen Graham. Please leave this property and never speak to me again.
Cutest Couple. If the measure of devotion is following your beloved to war, then Hermione, Countess Ranfurly, who outwits the entire British war leadership in Africa and the Middle East in order to stay near her husband Dan, is the pinnacle. HERMIONE AND DAN FOREVER. Also, Whitaker is the best non-third-wheel-third-wheel there is.
Prom King. James Leigh-Smith, created as an A in the brand spanking new social order, would be all over this.
Prom Queen. I think Queen Lucia of Tilling, formerly of Riseholme, has taken this one before. Perhaps she was too busy playing a wee bit of darling Mozart on her ickle piano and forgot to show up for finals? Either way, she’s the queen.
Most Likely to Succeed. Give Jane Carter a storefront and a tiny bit of capital and she’ll take the world by storm. She’s definitely this year’s most likely to succeed. You’ll be seeing her at all the Fashion Weeks.
Yipes! This is always one of the hardest posts of the year for me to write. Even in 2020, I read so many wonderful books – how am I supposed to choose a top ten? (And don’t tell me I don’t have to choose. What am I supposed to do, just not write a top ten post for the year? Unthinkable.)
If you’d asked me back in May if I thought I’d be struggling to come up with ten favorite books of the year, I’d have found that very plausible – but not for the same reason. All spring, I struggled with a reading slump, brought on by pandemic anxiety and the shifting foundations of the world we’ve all suddenly found ourselves living in. I had figured I’d turn to books for comfort, as is my usual practice, but I couldn’t bring myself to focus; it was odd. I didn’t watch television, either. Mostly, I just stared into space. But happily, the reading slump seems to have worked its way out and now I find myself sitting here, in December, pandemic anxiety still a-raging, but at least I’m struggling to name ten favorite books because of an embarrassment of riches.
Enough said. Let’s try. And for something new, a ranking.
10. Girl, Woman, Other, by Bernardine Evaristo. Read in the earliest days of the pandemic, and I didn’t think I was going to like it (I’d read that the writing style was experimental, which largely dooms a book for me). I loved it. It was raw, and real, and like poetry.
9. Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day, by Winifred Watson. One I’d been meaning to get to for years, I finally found time to meet Miss Pettigrew and join her on her adventures, and what I was missing! Miss Pettigrew was indominable, her friends sparkling, and the whole thing was a joy.
8. We Swim to the Shark, by Georgie Codd. Sometimes you read a book that is just what you need in the moment, and that that was We Swim to the Shark for me. I loved every moment, but especially the evocative descriptions of diving.
7. Wigs on the Green, by Nancy Mitford. Nancy always delivers, right? This book was funny and a little uncomfortable – classic Mitford. The author held it back from publication herself, because it poked fun a little too sharply at some of her family members. I’m glad it’s in the world now.
6. The Adventures of Elizabeth in Rugen, by Elizabeth von Arnim. 2020 was a year of reading Elizabeth von Arnim for me, and The Adventures of Elizabeth in Rugen very closely beat out Fraulein Schmidt and Mr Anstruther for space on this list. Elizabeth goes on a “solo” vacation (of course, as a German baroness, her “solo” vacation includes a maid, a driver, and unfortunately, a tagalong cousin) and it’s equal parts beautiful nature writing and hilarious scrapes.
5. Life Among the Savages, by Shirley Jackson. I’ve only know of Shirley Jackson as the writer of such terrifying horrors as We Have Always Lived in the Castle and The Haunting of Hill House, so I figured she was not for me. Not so! This was laugh-out-loud funny. I read it before the pandemic, and scared people on the Metro by cackling the entire time.
4. The Priory, by Dorothy Whipple. Every Whipple I’ve read has been wonderful, but The Priory is my favorite. My heart goes with sweet Christine as she fights for her marriage and her home.
3. Going Solo, by Roald Dahl. Like most of us, I’ve got extreme cabin fever at this point. Roald Dahl helps alleviate that. From the moment he gets on the boat and encounters the eccentricities of the “typical” British expat, he’s funny and engaging. Slightly Foxed published both his memoirs; I had no desire to read Boy, but snapped up Going Solo and it was balm for the wanderlusting spirit this year.
2. Persuasion, by Jane Austen. In any other year, Jane would have to occupy the top spot (even if it feels like cheating to give that honor to a re-read). Persuasion is arguably her best novel, and it had been too long since I visited with Anne Elliot and Captain Wentworth. Perhaps it’s a testament to 2020 that, while the last time I read it I found it a bit of a downer, this time, every page was a delight.
To War with Whitaker, by Hermione, Countess Ranfurly. Some years bring you a new treasure, and whatever else 2020 was, it delivered on that front. I read To War with Whitaker back in April and have been enthusiastically recommending it ever since. It is funny, moving, fascinating, and a total joy. I love it and will re-read it a thousand times.
As y’all know, I’m not big on gift-bragging type of blog posts, but I can’t resist sharing my Christmas book haul each year. My family members always deliver; I am fortunate. They came through this year, and since I still haven’t gotten a library card in my new town (not so new anymore; how have we been living here for six months already, just about?) I anticipate that I’ll be getting to the books in this stack sooner than I have been accustomed to do. In fact, I’ve already blitzed through one of them!
Here are the details.
From Steve:
At Large and At Small and Rereadings, both by Anne Fadiman. I read Fadiman’s collection of essays about the reading life, Ex Libris, last spring and loved it. Can’t wait to get to these – and how nice they’ll look in my growing “books about books” section!
Crossed Skis, by Carol Carnac. A new addition to my British Library Crime Classics shelf! Evil lurks at a ski resort. I can’t wait.
The Mayor of Casterbridge and Jude the Obscure, both by Thomas Hardy. I’ve had my eye on these two Penguin Clothbound Classics for ages now. They’re so pretty.
Sanditon, by Jane Austen. How did I not know that Penguin Clothbound Classics published an edition of Austen’s final, unfinished work (bundled together as it often is with The Watsons and Lady Susan)? I already own Sanditon, but I am so excited to have completed my Clothbound Classics collection of Jane’s works. The only problem: fitting them on my Austen shelf. I’ll figure it out, though.
The Story of Classic Crime in 100 Books, by Martin Edwards. Edwards is the voice in golden age crime these days. In addition to being a crime writer in his own right and President of the current iteration of the Detection Club, Edwards is the series consultant to the British Library Crime Classics. I am so excited to read his history of the genre.
Agatha: The Real Life of Agatha Christie, by Anne Martinetti and Guillame Lebeau. I’ve been eyeing this graphic novel-style biography of Agatha Christie forever, it seems. Christie’s life was even more fascinating than her novels – I can’t wait to read this.
The Moment of Tenderness, by Madeleine L’Engle. I’m not a short-story aficionado in general, but a trove of newly discovered stories from the span of L’Engle’s career is certainly a treasure, and I look forward to digging in.
From others:
Death on the Nileand The Mysterious Affair at Styles, both by Agatha Christie, from my parents. I dearly love to curl up with a golden age mystery, especially on a frigid winter’s night, and of all the queens of crime, my heart belongs to Christie. My mom fed my addiction this year and I’ve already finished Death on the Nile. (Once again, I figured out the whodunit, but not the how.)
The Truths We Hold, by Kamala Harris, from my parents. I think I’m going to save this one for Inauguration Week.
Birdmania: A Remarkable Passion for Birds, by Bernd Brunner, from my brother and sister-in-law. After the many, many lengthy phone conversations and text exchanges that I’ve had with both Dan and Danielle, comparing feeder notes and birding expeditions, I should have guessed that I’d unwrap a bird-themed book on Christmas morning. I flipped through this a little and it looks so good!
I also received Pocket RBG Wisdom and The RBG Workout, which my dad insisted on giving me – unpictured here because they were packed in a different bag after our visit to my parents’ house for New Year’s. Both look like a lot of fun and I will be flipping through each very soon.
And that does for me! I’m a lucky bookworm indeed. At this rate, it will probably be another year before I find the time to register for a new library card. I’ve got no shortage of reading material right here, thanks to my generous family.
2020 was an odd and terrible year in so many respects; we all know this already. With respect to reading, I thought early on that it was going to be a bust. Between a busy start to the year (preparing for a federal jury trial that ended up indefinitely postponed) and then the upending of everything that we all thought we knew, starting in March, it was weird and stressful and I spent a lot of the year staring at the wall or doomscrolling through my phone – not reading. Yet somehow in there I still managed to pile up the pages. There were weeks when I barely touched a book and weeks when I ripped through six books. And really no telling what the short-term reading future held – let alone the long-term. Here’s how it all shook out – get ready for a monster post:
Totals. According to Goodreads, I read 124 books in 2020, for a total of 31,363 pages. Actually pretty consistent with recent years. I always set a reading goal of 104 books – a pace of two per week – and in the past couple of years I’ve been exceeding that goal by about twenty books. So: right on the money.
Again according to Goodreads, the shortest book I read was Wonders and Absurdities 2019, Philip Rhys Evans’ commonplace selections for last year (I loaded it to Goodreads, so you’ll have to take my word for it that’s the title), which clocked in at a slim 24 pages. The longest book I read was The Pickwick Papers (which I reviewed for The Classics Club), a doorstopper at a whopping 944 pages.
Let’s break it down. I love this nerdy navel-gazing tradition of looking back over a year’s worth of reading. Here we go.
Pretty standard breakdown between fiction, non-fiction and poetry. A lot of bookish friends have reported reading more non-fiction than usual in 2020 – to the extent we’ve all been reading at all – but that doesn’t seem to hold true for me. This breakdown – majority fiction, but a healthy dose of non-fiction and a handful of poetry titles – is pretty much run-of-the-mill for me in any year.
Fiction genres this year contained some of the expected and some of the unexpected. Expected: I favored classics, which I always do, even more heavily than usual. Makes sense that in a year containing so much uncertainty, I was drawn to old favorites and new discoveries that have nonetheless stood the test of time. (Contributing to this was the fact that I moved mid-year and still have not gotten a library card in my new system – partly avoiding public places unless necessary, and partly because I’ve been enjoying reading from my own shelves, which are almost all classics.) Mysteries played a big role in my 2020 reading as well, which also makes sense in a stressful year; that neat resolution at the end of a cozy mystery sure is enticing. Unexpected: 20 sci-fi and fantasy titles! Whoa – that’s highly unusual for me. But I can explain that one too: it’s almost all Lumberjanes. Remember that binge over the summer? I knew that would skew my totals at the end of the year, and it did.
As for non-fiction genres, I think this was pretty predictable. Memoirs and books about books make up the lion’s share of my non-fiction reads this year, which is about standard for me. One parenting book: also standard, I tend to avoid those. There was less social science (which includes history) than usual, which also makes sense, in a year that was stressful enough as it is. The other thing that surprises me on this graph is: only four books about gardens and nature. I love nature writing as it is, and I moved to the exurbs this year, and it was a year for comfort reading – all of which should have meant a higher total. Wonder how 2021 will shake out in that respect.
Nothing too unusual in the format of the books I read. As always, it was almost all physical books. There was that comics binge over the summer, accounting for the larger total there, and the usual smattering of journals, ebooks, and a couple of audiobooks.
Here’s one that’s flipped on its head! Source of books was very unusual this year. I’m a self-proclaimed library junkie, and usually my yearly totals are overwhelmingly sourced from the library – this even though I have a carefully curated collection of books on my own shelves that I am really keen on reading. But this year, other than a handful that were borrowed from friends and sourced from the library, I read almost entirely from my own shelves. The reason for this was largely the pandemic. When everything shut down in mid-March, I had a short stack from the Alexandria library. I read my way through that, returned them, and that was pretty much it. I didn’t utilize the curbside pickup option – just felt like one more thing to figure out and I didn’t have the wherewithal. Then in June we moved houses – just one county over, but that meant a new library system, and again, figuring out the logistics of going and getting a library card in my new county, during a pandemic, just felt like too much. Plus by that point I was really enjoying my own shelves; it turns out I really like my own taste in books. Who knew?
Here’s one I’ve never tracked before – first-time reads versus re-reads. Given my past predilections for using the library, I think I probably read more first-time reads in past years, but I can’t confirm that since I don’t have the data. It will be interesting to track this in future years and see how it changes (or doesn’t).
Getting a little more into the weeds, when it came to authors’ sex or gender, I was weighted in favor of women as usual. There was a respectable minority of men and a handful of “various” – journals and short-story collections with both male and female contributors. Finally, five of the Lumberjanes trade paperbacks I read over the summer had an author who uses all gender pronouns; I have noted this as non-binary on my pie chart, although the author has noted that they are not using a particular gender label at this time. Hopefully I’ll read more gender non-binary authors in 2021.
One last graph. Setting was pretty standard for me this year – majority Great Britain (of those, two books set in Scotland and the rest in England) and USA. A handful of books set in continental Europe, one each in Asia and Canada – none entirely in Africa, I must do better in 2021, although one of the “various” category was set in a few locations between Africa, the Middle East, and continental Europe – and a bunch in either fictional worlds or in multiple settings (none of which were really dominant). I’m giving myself a pass on diversity of settings in 2020. It was a stressful year; I just wanted to close my eyes and think of England, apparently.
Whew! This one is always a behemoth, but fun to write. It was a terrible year in many respects, but actually rather a good one for reading – at least for me. Next year, I predict more of the same, on the book front at least. More reading from my own shelves (I’ll probably hold off on that library card until COVID numbers in my area go down substantially and I feel more comfortable going out to public places). More comfort reading – more classics, more mysteries, more nature, more re-reads. More England, certainly.
First things first: Merry Christmas, to my friends who are celebrating today! To those who are not, I hope that you’re enjoying a day off work if you get it, and that you have a restful end of 2020 ahead.
It has been some season of reading! 2020 reading has been something of a roller-coaster; between trial prep, pandemic-induced reading slumps, and long periods of churning through books, I feel like I have whiplash. December was an upswing in terms of reading, and I planned a bookish Advent (to replace all of the running-around fun that we usually do). I powered through most of the list that I shared earlier this month, and all told, made it to the following seasonal reads:
The Folio Book of Christmas Crime Stories, by various authors
Village Christmas: and Other Notes on the English Year, by Laurie Lee
Wonders and Absurdities 2019, by Philip Rhys Evans
Christmas at Thompson Hall, and Other Christmas Stories, by Anthony Trollope
Portrait of a Murderer, by Anne Meredith
Christmas Crackers: Being Ten Commonplace Selections, 1970-79, by John Julius Norwich
Round the Christmas Fire: Festive Stories, by various authors
Silent Nights: Christmas Mysteries, by various authors
The Twelve Birds of Christmas, by Stephen Moss
An Englishman’s Commonplace Book, by Roger Hudson
The Twelve Days of Christmas, by John Julius Norwich
That’s not counting A Country Doctor’s Commonplace Book, which I’ll be reading today (as per my tradition of the last few years), or Winter Solstice, of which I am still in the middle. So! Some Advent in books. I’ve enjoyed myself, although I’m also looking forward to branching out and getting back to my usual variety. And I suspect I’ll have a few more to add to the list before the month wraps up, as per my usual.
What is it about Christmas that makes people so particularly bloodthirsty? Is it all the extra relatives in the house (unless it’s 2020, of course)? The intimidating spikes on the ends of a mistletoe leaf? The inhibition-destroying effects of boozy eggnog? The bloody sheen of holly berries on death-pale snow? Okay, I’m creeping myself out now, so I’ll stop. But Christmas is undeniably fertile ground for mystery writers from the Queen of Crime, Dame Agatha Christie (Hercule Poirot’s Christmas) to lesser-known Golden Age mystery writers (like the contributors to British Library Crime Classics’ Silent Nights and Crimson Snow collections) and modern-day writers like Alan Bradley (I am Half Sick of Shadows). Whatever it is about Christmas, there seems to be plenty of shadow under those twinkle lights.
Any Golden Age crime reader these days is familiar with the British Library Crime Classics series – which is growing too fast for me to keep up with these days. The Santa Klaus Murder, by Mavis Doriel Hay, is a particularly fun entry, especially at this time of year. An unpopular, but rich, old gentleman is found murdered in his library, by a guest dressed as Father Christmas, and things only get weirder from there. There are a few obvious twists, one of which is revealed on the back cover (why???) but it’s good fun. You’ll never look at a Santa costume the same way again.
Another country-house-at-Christmas murder mystery, Georgette Heyer’s A Christmas Party is fun and frothy – or at least, as fun and frothy as a crime novel can be. All of the classic holiday-themed Christmas mystery tropes are here: a snowstorm that isolates all of the possible suspects in a house together; several red herrings; lots of family secrets. Good stuff all around.
For a more modern take on the Christmas murder mystery, look no further than Louise Penny, who contributes A Fatal Grace – the second installment in her popular Armand Gamache series. It’s an interesting twist on the locked room trope: CC de Poitiers, the unpopular murder victim – query: is the murder victim ever not unpopular? – is electrocuted in the middle of a frozen lake, during a curling competition as the entire village looks on. I guessed the identity of the killer fairly quickly, but while the who was obvious, only Chief Inspector Gamache can figure out the how. Also, crossing curling off my list of sports to try.
Does Christmas make you bloodthirsty? Any holiday-themed murder mystery recommendations for me?
In a month that is crammed full of tradition from start to finish, one of my favorite traditions is my own personal practice of reading Christmas books every evening – ideally by the light of a Christmas tree. I don’t have the tree yet (getting it tomorrow, I think!) but I’m already deep into the twinkly reading. I never manage to make it through my entire Christmas shelf in a single holiday season, but I sure do have fun trying. Here’s what’s on my Christmas 2020 reading agenda:
The Folio Book of Christmas Crime Stories, by various authors. I’ve already started this one! It’s a fun collection of short stories from the golden age of crime, featuring Agatha Christie, Ngaio Marsh, and other famous names – as well as a few new-to-me authors.
Village Christmas: And Other Notes on the English Year, by Laurie Lee. I wanted to read this one last year, but couldn’t find it. When it turned up during unpacking from our recent move, I made sure to secure it safely on the Christmas shelf.
Winter Solstice, by Rosamund Pilcher. Another one I wanted to read last year – in the case of Winter Solstice, I just didn’t get around to it. This year!
Round the Christmas Fire, by various authors. Another one that was missing, and turned up in the move. Who can resist a volume of Christmas stories from Charles Dickens, Nancy Mitford, and everyone in between?
Christmas Crackers, Volume I, by John Julius Norwich – Last year, I read Norwich’s hilarious The Twelve Days of Christmas (and I’ll probably re-read it this year; it takes about 20 minutes and is an absolute riot). But I’ve also been wanting to dive into Norwich’s commonplace books, which he called Christmas Crackers. There are literally decades of them, but I’m planning to tackle the 1970s this year.
A Country Doctor’s Commonplace Book, by Philip Rhys Evans, and An Englishman’s Commonplace Book, by Roger Hudson – More commonplace books! Country Doctor has been a Christmas Day tradition of mine since Slightly Foxed published it two years ago, and Englishman is a new addition to the library this year. I’m eagerly anticipating both!
Christmas at Thompson Hall, and Other Stories, by Anthony Trollope – Yet another one that was missing, and turned up in the move. I love Trollope and have been carefully rationing his novels; this will tide me over until I get around to the next installment in the Chronicles of Barchester.
The Twelve Birds of Christmas, by Stephen Moss – Unpictured, because it’s not here yet – my copy is winging its way (see what I did there?) to me from England as I write this. I loved Moss’s book about English bird names, Mrs. Moreau’s Warbler, and I’ve had my eye on his bird “biographies” for many months now, so I’m excited to read this when it arrives.
Silent Nights: Christmas Stories, edited by Martin Edwards – There’s nothing like a little murder at Christmas, am I right? The British Library Crime Classics series includes several entries set at and around Christmas, and this collection of golden age crime stories looks great.
Crimson Snow: Christmas Stories, edited by Martin Edwards – Another volume of stories from the British Library Crime Classics – I may not get to this; we’ll see.
Portrait of a Murderer, by Anne Meredith – One more BL Crime Classic! I doubt I’ll make it through all of these, of course, but they’re ready and waiting on the shelf.
Well, this is some list, right?! And this isn’t even my entire Christmas shelf. I think it’s extremely unlikely I’ll make it through all of these (although you never know).What I do know is that it’s looking like a very good month of reading ahead.
What do you like to read to celebrate the holiday season?
covered in flour 