Rereading books… Why do we do that?

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How many people reread certain books? I don´t mean once more like five years down the line, I am talking about rereading them regularly.

I hadn´t given it much thought until last night when I started rereading a series of books that I must have read at least ten times already. I have approximately 30 new books on my kindle so reading one of the new books would seem the logical thing to do, instead I revert back to those that I know.
Don´t get me wrong, I do read the new ones, I had just finished reading one of the said new books by Anne Bishop, Written in Red (which I haven´t reviewed because I have no idea how to review that book), but instead of starting something new I opened up the Kate Daniels series…. again.

A few chapters in and I was wondering why I was reading this again, anyway, I realised that certain books comfort me, the stories, the characters, the writing. I know that I will be happy after I read it, that there is a contentment to be found that will make me smile and say, “This is a great book!”. Rereading something that I love is safe and I know that I won´t feel uncomfortable or disturbed with what I have read. I also realised that I tend to reread my favourite books after reading something that has left me confused in any way. Having said that Anne Bishop´s Written in Red was not what I expected, I´m just not sure how I feel about the story or the characters so I went back to what I know and enjoy for another read.

So to Ilona Andrews, Meljean Brook, Elizabeth Hunter, J.L. Murray and so many more, thank you for being my safety net in the literary world.

Why I read fantasy and paranormal romances

I started reading at a very early age, a time before video games, iPhones and the thousand other gadgets that keep a large number of kids busy today. I went to school, played outside with my friends, fell off my bycicle until I achieved my full skills at riding, roller skating was the same and my mother didn´t even blink at the bruises or the bloody knees or the never ending scratches that came from climbing trees and playing in the park. With maybe thirty minutes of television three times a week, what was left to do at night? Read. The Adventures of Tintin and Asterix and Obelix were my thing, I must have been six or seven years old, Ric Hochet and Michel Vaillant came a bit later as did Blake and Mortimer. Julius Verne and Enid Blyton along with the above comics played such an important role in my love of books and reading.

By the time I came into my teens Stephen King did his job and scared the crap out of me on more occasions than I care to remember, BTW thank you for my fear of clowns Mr King. Agatha Christie and Ruth Rendell made their way into my collection, in my early twenties I fell in love with John le Carré´s books, The Little Drummer Girl is one of my favourite books to this day. In my early thirties Amin Malouf impressed me with Samarkand and Dan Brown took me down another path of fiction and George Orwell´s 1984 and Animal Farm were an eye opener to society. While authors like Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Alexandre Dumas and Boris Pasternak shaped my life and I treasure their books and reread them every now and again you will find books by Daniel Silva, Robert Wilson, Martin Cruz Smith, Jean-Christophe Grangé, Erik Larsson and Frederick Forsythe amongst so many more brilliant authors fill my bookshelves and I care for them like the treasure they are.

But strangely enough I now find myself in a phase of fantasy and paranormal romance.

A few years ago, I must have been in my mid-thirties, my father-in-law gave a Harry Potter book and I suppose that was my first fantasy book. I had already read Bram Stoker´s Dracula, Mary Shelley´s Frankenstein and Rip van Winkle´s The Legend of Sleepy Hollow but to me these are classics and in a completely different category of my favourite fantasy authors like Ilona Andrews, Patricia Briggs and J.L. Murray. The classics are in a category all on their own (sorry favourite current authors). My husband was the one who questioned my choice of reading genre with a hint of mock I might add, at the time I shrugged and for a while I felt a certain amount of embarassment for enjoying these books. On the other hand I´m assuming that he found it peculiar if you look at the many authors that I have been reading over the years.

So why do I read fantasy and paranormal romance?

Because I want to, because I enjoy it and because it gives me pleasure. There is no reason why I shouldn´t read them, I will make no excuses for enjoying a fantasy world, whether it´s George R.R. Martin killing off all his characters or Charlaine Harris writing some incredibly steamy sexy scenes, I don´t care.
Does reading Anne Rice´s Interview with a Vampire make me less intelligent than if I were reading Leo Tolstoy´s War and Peace? Hmm… no, but it certainly indicates that I have very little patience for reading an utterly BORING book (apologies to those who loved the aforementioned boring book).

Yes, I love fantasy and NO, I am not embarrassed about it. I can as easily have a discussion on current world issues, (but who wants to feel depressed?) as easily as I can discuss the most ridiculous concepts of fae worlds or mythological creatures that are making their way into the many books that I read today.

Read what you want, without embarrassment and without hiccups. Enjoy a book whether it´s Leo Tolstoy or Meljean Brooks, the important thing is that you read and that what you read makes you happy and for a few brief moments of your day the rest of the world is put on hold while you take a trip somewhere far away.

2015….. Page 2 of 365

It feels as if 2014 flew by but then again I remember bitching and moaning that the days just seemed to drag on. To be fair this happened mostly on Monday’s but for some reason or other weekends just flew by at the speed of lightning and I find myself on the second page of three hundred and sixty five. A new year a brand new book and this is what page two of 2015 looks like in my book.

This is Xai-Xai beach in Gaza Province, our corner of paradise with temperatures (and neighbours) from hell, but beautiful nonetheless.

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Summer holidays……. Happy 2015

Well as I have mentioned I was born and live in Mozambique (south eastern Africa) and right now it’s summer here, in fact it’s almost always summer here minus a month or two then it’s winter which has the same temperature as summer as countries in the northern hemisphere. Well maybe it’s colder in Canada in the summer than here in the winter 😒.

My oldest daughter has gone to India for her holiday, which left hubby little daughter and myself to come to the beach for three weeks. I think I can safely state that the temperatures here are equivalent to hell with the added benefit of 100% humidity…..😥. There are perks like clean pores, free sauna, constant sweating and looking like an overcooked lobster if you are unfortunate to forget the sunblock before stepping outside to greet the sun. But with the summer and the heat comes the rains, not the drizzle kind I am talking of gunmetal skies with lightning shaming electricity companies and the delicate sound of thunder scaring the crap out of my dog.

I decided that I would read and that I would dig into my own book, reading yip getting that done and writing… not so much. My neighbours love to play what I assume they consider to be music full blast when the household members are still in deep slumber at the most inapropriate hours of the morning, mid morning… actually at any given time of the day they will attempt to drive us utterly insane with their damn noise. So my attempt at writing is so far tucked away for another day in the meantime I keep hoping that the constant flow of coffee will keep me sane and away from temptation to kill a neighbour… or two.

Taking a quiet moment to wish you all a Happy New Year, may 2015 be filled with joy, just remember to make realistic resolutions and it will be great.

Time travel… just a thought

I keep reading comments on book reviews (with sighs included) how people would love to travel back in time, a favourite destination seems to be the Highlands in Scotland in the 14th and 15th centuries. I think it has to do with the magnificent males that the authors conjure.

To those people all I have to say is: unless you were filthy rich or actually changed your destination to China, toilet paper was not available until the 19th century….

Think about it ;)