When I'm not spinning, or knitting, I read. I love to read and I hoard books. If there is ever a Library Hoarders show on TV I am in trouble. Books are everywhere around here, piled and double stacked in shelves, located under desks, hiding in the kitchen.. Not to mention the 14 containers full in the garage waiting till I have a library and can really and truly put them out.
Most books I buy 2nd hand, or at the stores off clearance racks. I am so bad, that one time, at work, someone threw out a book that had been left there. I had already read this book. And I detested it. But, I saw it in the garbage can, and it bothered me so much, I fished it out, cleaned it up and took it home to sit on a shelf. It's probably some sort of illness really, I mean the book addiction. I probably picked it up as a kid, from my best friend Meghanne's house. Her mom, and dad were journalists. Their house was book heaven. Books floor to ceiling. I read those books all the time when I was over there. I treasured them. And now I rival that collection here.
But with that said, I am incredibly picky about books. Most current literature disappoints me. It's the author being unable to develop characters, or else, being unable to resist killing the well developed ones off. I hate the trivial sleep with everyone plots, and I also hate the life sucks crap. Life does suck, it's what you do with that fact that matters.
Anyway, rant over. My darling brother gave me a gift card on my birthday to a Big Book Store. So I raced over to spend it (of course!) I picked up a couple authors I love, Maggie Sefton who writes a cute little series about a spinning/knitting shop, Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child's newest book Fever Dream - I am addicted to Agent Pendergast, and their scary, bone chilling but thought provoking writing. But I also bought 2 new authors. One was the best selling Friday Night Knitters Club. I loved this book in some ways, but I absolutely hated the ending which personally I felt was uncalled for. The other, was a british author, named Gil McNeil. The title of the book was the Beach Street Knitting Society and Yarn club.
This book, wasn't a mystery, didn't try to appear smart, or too sophisticated for most people (that's my other pet peeve, most authors feel they must appear smart, you appear more intelligent if you don't flaunt it.) It was about an every day person, facing problems and solving them, making the best out of her situation.
Jo was widowed suddenly, and is faced with leaving London with her 2 small boys. She buys her grandmother's knitting shop, and moves everyone to the sea. Where she meets the town gossips, the local celebrities, the old biddies, and the terrible PTA president. All while walking the neighbors dog her boys are obsessed with sneaking home and trying to get them over the loss of their dad. It's honest, funny, and sweet. You want to move next door to Jo just to stop by for tea, laugh at her hysterical kids, and maybe get a knitting lesson. Not to mention help her train the dog. I finished the book practically overnight and immediately went back to find more. Alas, her next wasn't scheduled till August.
So on Thursday I ran to the store to buy the book. This morning I finished it. The same amazing people, this time as old friends, because I knew them from the first page. I sincerely hope Gil McNeil writes even more. I can't wait to see what happens to the town this year. Finding a good book, and stories you love, is a rare treasure, and I am so happy to have found these!
Both are available at Amazon and at Barnes and Noble, no affiliation, just great stories.