|Not exactly what I meant when I said "meaty book"|
Although October here has been unseasonable warm as of late, the abundance of pumpkins, squash, and mums in the stores and on lawns is starting to put me in the autumn mindset and when the crisp fall weather eventually does hit, I'll be turning my sights on the ever-reliable Edgar Allan Poe. I also have the book The Woman in Black by Susan Hill, given to me a few years ago by my mom, the eternal sucker for ghost stories set in Great Britain. It's never seemed like the right time to read the book until now, so as of today, it's in my stack of to-reads on my nightstand (a towering, sometimes precarious stack, I assure you. It may crush me in my sleep one night.)
|Mark my words - this is the cause of my death|
My beloved adventure books, in contrast, are all set for summer reading. This includes some of Jon Krauker's books (with the exception of Into Thin Air), Bill Bryson, and my new infatuation of reading about Carter's discovery of King Tut's tomb (I have my eye on the 2012 book on this).
And then that brings me back to fall. Of course, I don't want to mislead you into thinking I have all my books planned for the next year. There are certainly hordes of books ideal for reading any time of year. Margaret Atwood falls in this category. Of course. Many other works of fiction fit 'round the calendar as well. Except Salman Rushdie. No, he's a winter read for me for sure.
|They are reading Salman Rushie, I'm sure of it.|