It isn’t possible for me to answer this question with just one book, so I’m going to list them all. There may be a few that I have forgotten, but these are the ones I have in my bookcase.
Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston. This is my favorite novel. Ever. It was required reading in American literature class, and I’m so pleased to have been introduced to this amazing wordsmith Ms. Hurston.
The Outlander series by Diana Gabaldon.
Any and all titles by Bill Bryson.
The Buenos Aires Broken Hearts Club by Jessica Morrison. This is a fantastic novel. I’m not sure if it’s still in print, and I don’t believe the author ever published another novel, which upsets me to this day.
The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon.
I, Elizabeth by Rosalind Miles.
The General’s Mistress by Jo Graham.
The next three novels are a series by author Diana Norman. Sadly, she has passed away and there will be no more novels in the series. The first book is A Catch of Consequence, followed by Taking Liberties, and last but not least is The Sparks Fly Upward. This author also wrote under the pen name Ariana Franklin. I was today years old when I found that out, so I am excited and will try to get my hands on the novels she wrote under that name.
The next one is the first book in the “Undead” series by Mary Janice Davidson. I thought the first book was the best: “Undead and Unwed.”
Next up is author Katie McAllister (a pen name), with Men in Kilts and Improper English being my favorite titles from her.
Jane Austen – the whole catalogue.
Tess of the d’Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy.
Villette by Charlotte Brontë.
Sons and Lovers by DH Lawrence.
Mary Queen of Scotland and the Isles by Margaret George.
Forever Amber, by Kathleen Winsor (this is a particular favorite of mine, though it is rather sordid, especially for the time period in which it was written.)
And the last one is Absalom! Absalom! by William Faulkner. Just kidding. I despise this book. I had to write a paper on it and I hated every second of it. I don’t particularly like Faulkner nor his writing style, and that’s being polite. Faulkner perfected the run-on sentence, and that’s being polite.
That’s my list. What are some novels that you can’t get enough of and read over and over again? Let me know in the comments!
A young deer collided with my mom’s car this morning. We were driving back from the grocery store, trunk full of food, discussing something mundane about the week; something I can’t recall now. We saw one deer dart across the left lane of traffic and we gasped. My mom applied her brakes. We momentarily believed we had escaped what could have been a horrific situation, and then, just as suddenly, two more young deer darted from the brush.
My mom did what she could to slow down, but there was no way to avoid what was to come. The third deer ran head first into the driver’s side of the car. A loud thunk was felt and we pulled over. Already I was sobbing. I did not look back. I COULD NOT look back. My mom was shaking and sobbing. People began to pull over, maybe wondering if they could help us, maybe wondering if we were ok. Some did come up to the car and talk to us, making sure we were all right.
Physically, we were fine. The car was not damaged. Emotionally we were not fine. I am still not fine. That young deer didn’t die right away, it lingered for maybe 10 minutes before dying. Someone – I don’t know who – came and took the deer away. I don’t know if it was the County or a person who was planning on utilizing the meat. I don’t care. A deer died a traumatic death in the middle of the road because of a man-made vehicle that could not stop in time. The people inside that car do not agree with killing of animals for sport, and one of them (me) is adamant against such activities. So, to accidentally kill a deer – or any animal – is, for me, excruciating.
To unintentionally kill a beautiful animal that has every right to live is a horrible, horrible feeling. I took my mother’s hand and held it. And we cried. I cried not only for that young deer in the road, but for all the other deer who meet similar fates, and for others who are cruelly killed for sport.
Finally, the police arrived and said they do not file police reports for deer collisions, and since there was no damage to the car, my mom would not have to fix anything, so need to contact the insurance company.
Deer hair lingers on the driver’s side window, though, and I can’t bear to go over to that side to see the small dent I have been told is there now.
So that’s it. Nothing can be done. We just go on about our day? What about the two other deer? Where did they go? Do they wonder what happened to the young doe?
Are they waiting for her on the other side of the road, off in the distance?
Sorry, I just can’t finish this. I can’t stop crying.
Please, whatever you do today, hug your dogs, your cats, your ferrets, whatever pet you know and love. And hug your people, too. We are all fragile in this life.
The community that is now filled with people who don’t know each other and don’t care to know each other, used to be one filled with block parties and neighborhood watch patrols. People would come sit on your porch and have a cup of coffee or a beer and chill. Santa Claus came every year on the local fire company’s biggest firetruck. Everyone knew everyone else, and stopping your car to chat with your neighbor was common. No one behind you would honk their horn to hurry you on your way.
Last week I witnessed a minivan with no tags drive around a tow truck into someone else’s front lawn to get past what must’ve been an annoying situation for the minivan. I couldn’t believe what I had seen. Couldn’t the guy have waited a few minutes, or turned around in my driveway and gone around the block? No. Too impatient. About 15 minutes later, he came back and did it again from the opposite direction. Yes, it was all a bit suspect, but without a license plate, I couldn’t call the police. See the other thing, back in the day, neighbors looked out for each other and would call the police or investigate a strange situation if they saw it. They would also look after each other’s houses and pets when one or the other went on vacation.
This doesn’t happen anymore.
I only know a few of the original people in my neighborhood, and the new ones are not from the back in the day mentality. Everyone is huddled inside of their homes, doing whatever. It’s the antithesis of community.
I’d be willing to bring back block parties and neighborhood watches, but the sad truth is one person doesn’t make a community – it takes a group of like-minded people to foster a sense of community.
The question is the answer and the answer is the question. And I don’t think the definition of community will ever be as understood as it was back in the day.
As the sun continues to move to a stronger angle as spring approaches summer, I like to play with the light as it’s setting. I took a few photos with my phone the other day.
I saw this solar chandelier a few years ago in an outdoor accessories magazine. But I wanted to hang it inside, I didn’t want to leave it outside where it would get ruined by the rain. My mother always wanted a certain chandelier from IKEA that was very sparkly. We shared a love of sparkle. She also wanted a pink chair in her bedroom.
One of the first items I purchased after clearing out her room and making it into a sitting room, was a champagne pink, velvet chaise. A little later came the solar powered chandelier. I can turn the switch to activate the light, but to be honest, the natural sunlight hitting it late in the afternoon is more beautiful than any artificial lighting.
The setting suns caresses the solar chandelier, causing happy twinkles of light while my pink fedora rests for a spell.
I’m finally taking my car to the body shop to get her bumper replaced Tuesday. She’ll be in there for at least two weeks. I was wondering what kind of tank they’re going to give me at the car rental place, and I was thinking about my car’s name. She was given this name on the day. I drove her off the lot. It didn’t come to me immediately, I had to study her and drive her to know that she is a refined vehicle that sits high and proud and has a smooth ride that purrs. Her name is Victoria and her nickname is Koko. Yes, she has a nickname. I only use her full name when she is driving sluggishly and I need her to get the lead out (ha!).
Some of you might think I’m strange, but yes, I routinely name my cars. My car before this one was a black Mazda2, and her name was Buttercup. She was a spitfire. She liked to race sport cars, and win. She liked to take turns real tight, almost obnoxiously so. She was afraid of no one. She wasn’t named after the weed known as buttercup, she was named after the toughest Power Puff Girl. I still miss that car.
My naming of cars goes back to my mother who started the habit. She named her first car Happy. She had many cars over the years, and I can remember a few of their names.
The raspberry red Dodge something-or-other was named Bob, i.e. Bucket of Bolts. Bob didn’t have a long life with Mom. He was a lemon, despite his beautiful raspberry color. Her Toyota Echo was named Sassy, and her final car, a Toyota Corolla, was named Darwin.
Does anyone else name their cars? If you do, let me know their names in the comments!
