Hello, dear fellow bookish friends. I would love a little input, if you feel so moved.
As some of you may have gathered from previous occasional comments, I provide books for my very frail, completely house-bound, 87-year-old mother. We happily share some of the same reading tastes, though she tends to be more tolerant of – how shall I put it? – more romantic, or uplifting books than I, and completely uninterested in anything smacking of historical fiction, memoirs, non-fictional travel or history (unless it’s local history, and she knows some of the people referred to), fantasy, sci-fi, satirical humour, or dark realism, which eliminates a huge percentage of my personal library for sharing with her.
Joanna Trollope, Maeve Bianchy, Mary Stewart, and their ilk all find favour, as do such authors as Miss Read, Monica Dickens, Daphne du Maurier and Pearl S. Buck. Classic mystery writers such as Agatha Christie, D.L. Sayers, Patricia Wentworth and Ngaio Marsh are acceptable, and I do believe I now have most of each one of those authors’ large production! She’s read and re-read everything even vaguely suitable from my collection, and with winter coming on, with its long, dark evenings, I’m racking my brains for new authors for her to explore and enjoy.
Yesterday, while trying to pick out some likely to be appealing books, I remembered someone on some blog I frequently read speaking quite highly of Rosamunde Pilcher, and – lo and behold! – there were quite a number to choose from in the several secondhand bookstores I visited. So I’ve purchased a few – The Blue Bedroom (short stories), The Empty House, Another View, and September.
Today I’ve dipped into all of them, reading a page here and there, and several of the short stories, and I’m just not finding them terribly appealing. Is it just me, or did I pick the wrong ones, or??? These seem very “romantic fiction”, in all the worst ways. Could it be just that I’m coming off a course of Elizabeth Taylor (whom Mother did not at all enjoy when I slipped a few into her last box), and haven’t yet lowered my expectations?
What’s the general view on Rosamunde? Am I wasting my time with her, or do I need to dig deeper with a little more tolerance? Are there some books that are better than others, and if so, which would they be? Obviously The Shell Seekers must be one, as it is referenced favourably on every single flowery cover, as is Coming Home.