This quote was emphasized to me recently while watching You've Got Mail for the 856th time. It was emphasized because it's so true, at least in my case. I used to read a lot when I was little, then not so much in middle and high school, then again a bit in college, but not much outside of class assignments, though they were very good reads. Then, years later, along comes a book called Harry Potter and I found myself back in the swing of things once again. I'm not the fastest reader, and sometimes I have to consciously make an effort to remember to set aside time to do so, but I'm remembering how much I liked it. I have many fond memories of summers hanging out in the children’s section of our cute little neighborhood library back home.
You are what you read. I enjoy reading for the mindless escape, which just adds to the “pink sky world” that my husband tells me I dwell in. I think there is enough heavy subject matter to be found in the news that I can safely reserve book time for something usually more... pleasantly simplistic. I do sometimes envy people like my friend Abby, who reads pretty much everything under the sun, it seems (she IS a librarian, after all), or my husband, who bounces between technical thrillers like his favorite Michael Crichton novels (did you know he just recently died?!?) or the latest political biography, such as John Adams, Giants, Mao, or American Lion, but I know that's not me. One of my happy places has become the bookstore. We have a Barnes & Noble across the street, and I find I can completely lose track of time there, even if I’m not buying anything. Since that first Harry Potter installment, I’ve read a small handful of individual books that I’ve liked, but find comfort in ones that are series. The Ya-Ya Sisterhood books were a good time (I still have yet to crack open the third one), I loved The Da Vinci Code and Angels & Demons, and in the last couple years, I’ve come to learn that mysteries are my favorite genre. But not just any mysteries. I seem to have a penchant for quirky, themed storylines, and oddly enough for this non-cooker, ones with recipes. None of which are Pulitzer-winning, heavy reading by any stretch, mind you, but they make me happy.
The first series to get a chuckle out of my husband is from Joanne Fluke. They revolve around Hanna Swensen, a cookie shop owner in a small Minnesota lake town, where they, of course, have a highly unusual amount of murders. But the character is so down-to-earth and relatable that I can't help it! And I'm all into the lives of these people at this point. To top it off, there are usually close to a dozen cookie and dessert recipes sprinkled throughout. Yes, I have made some, and yes, they are yummy. So beginning with Chocolate Chip Cookie Murder, I have made my way through the subsequent Strawberry Shortcake, Blueberry Muffin, Lemon Meringue, Fudge Cupcake, Sugar Cookie, Peach Cobbler, Cherry Cheesecake, and Key Lime Pie Murder books. I'm waiting for Carrot Cake to come out in paperback, which will undoubtedly be about the same time that the new Cream Puff Murder hardback arrives on shelves. :)
In waiting for Carrot Cake Murder, I had to get another fix. This time, I found Cleo Coyle. Similarly enough, the main character in this series, Claire Cosi, runs a Greenwich Village coffee house... and there are recipes in it, as well as bits of nifty coffee knowledge. I just finished On What Grounds today, with Through the Grinder next in line. The eighth installment is due out this year, and it seems I'm officially hooked and have some catching up to do.
I also had my interest piqued by another series, although sadly, no recipes. This one is by the British author Christopher Fowler, with a set of mysteries involving the Peculiar Crimes Unit. I will come clean and say that the cover art (apparently newly re-designed) on the books sold me. I admit that I’m one of those people who does judge books by the cover, or at least is more inclined to find out more about them. When looking at the synopsis and finding out there was humor thrown in, sarcastic humor, at that, I decided I needed to give it a whirl. I’m sure these will compound my desire to visit London. The first one up is Full Dark House. We’ll see how it goes!
Though I don’t really read from it, I took a stroll through the B&N children’s section the other day. My mother-in-law apparently thinks that I’d be a good children’s book writer for some reason. Given my other penchant for having a bit of a sassy potty mouth and that I'm not exactly a kid person, it would be an interesting undertaking, though not entirely inconceivable (reference that pink sky I mentioned earlier). Anyhoo… While strolling the aisles and reminiscing on some of my own childhood favorites like Richard Scarry and Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs, I came across two modern books that I may seriously have to buy for myself. They are from the illustrator/author Brian Lies; one is called Bats at the Beach and the other is Bats at the Library. SO CUTE. And the stories are adorable. I can’t get over how much I’m in love with his artwork and the faces on the bats that made them almost look like little mice with wings. Not to mention the scene in Library where, similar to the cliché of photocopying your butt at a party, the bats were having a good time making xeroxes of themselves splayed out on the glass. If you know of any children in need of a good read, I highly recommend them.
Aside from sitting in Barnes & Noble for longer than I should, I also like losing time in the Caribou Coffee across the street, or any coffeehouse for that matter. That also explains my interest in the Cleo Coyle book series. It’s definitely an indulgence for the senses that seems to be getting stronger. For Christmas, Mike got a Bialetti Moka Express. It’s the one-cup version, which makes it nice to have just enough when it's just yourself and not have to break out the bigger coffee maker.
I’d seen them in stores before, paying little attention, but we had a larger one to use every day when we were in Italy recently. It makes a very tasty cup, a stronger, espresso-style coffee, but I have to say that my favorite part is the stinking adorable little mustache man on it, known as "L’Omino". His little pointy-finger stance is a trip, and I can’t help but to occasionally bust out an impersonation of him. Minus the mustache, of course. Although, I am Italian.
With my first Coyle book now finished, as well as my yummy coffee with a side of gingersnaps, it’s time to get back to the real world. For now…
