Sunday, 12 July 2015

" Oh No, This Isn't For Me. I'm Buying It For Someone Else! "

My stash of Georgette Heyer & Barbara Cartland is growing.

The love of reading doesn't just entail reading award winning literature but reading that which makes you feel good. As a teenager I discovered Georgette Heyer and of course the grand dame of romantic novels ( before Nora Roberts came along ) Barbara Cartland.

These romantic novels are easy to read and very predictable with the one common thread: they paint a life without the hue of swearing, fighting and everyday woes. In the case of Miss Heyer, an old fashioned way of life is penned. I sort of like that.

Anyway, whenever we get visitors from South Africa, our parents and friends send along care parcels. My beloved puts Bovril & Biltong on his wish list and yours truly asks for novels by the above authors. The second hand bookshops in South Africa are overflowing with novels by both authors. The English colonial influence.

Bob's wishlist is easy to fulfill but mine tends to involve the eternal catchphrase of:

" Oh, they aren't for me. I am just looking for someone else. " coupled with the thought of: ' Goodness, I hope I won't run into anyone who knows me.'
When did my genre of books morph into the stuff you buy and is put into a brown paper bag item?

These Old Shades (Alastair-Audley Book 1) (English Edition)

Years ago, I was invited along to dinner by a friend. A dinner where most guests were equipped with a degree, a degree that they must have had strapped to their backs, because they dropped said degree at the drop of a hat! Anyway, the discussion evolved towards reading and in between bragging about who was reading a more intelligent book, I did the unthinkable and conversation stopping deed:

" Oh, I love reading Georgette Heyer and the occasional Barbara Cartland! "
The sound of the infamous pin dropping on the floor was paradoxically deafening in its silence. Plenty of eyebrows were raised and smirks hidden behind suddenly raised hands...

Yesterday, Bob got his Bovril and I got a huge bag of delightful literature. We are both happy and what was more perplexing was that Bob was looking at all the books too. Could it be that he to, has become a fan of trashy literature!

Reading, is there anything better?