My sister bought me a copy of Where’d You Go, Bernadatte, by Maria Semple for my birthday because she had enjoyed it so much. She’d read it in the summer, lying on a lounger and covered in factor 50 (we’re a pale family). I am reading it as the nights draw in, as October is making way for a dark, damp November. I’m loving it. It’s easy to dip into because the characters are so much like real people, it’s impossible to lose track of who they are and what they want.
So it seems that this is a book that can be enjoyed in summer or winter, which brings me onto my thought for this week: my winter reading. Every winter, I have a pile of books that beg for some kind of fleece pyjama, a cup of tea, a lit fire and a blanket. Once I have finished Bernadette, it will be November and I will have to think very carefully about my choice of books for the months ahead. A book can make or break the Christmas period, just as it can a beach holiday.
Here are some my favourite winter reads so far:
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte (in fact, anything Bronte is uber cosy)
December by Elizabeth H Winthrop
The Crimson Petal and the White by Michel Faber
The Christmas Books by Charles Dickens (obvs)
Jamaica Inn by Daphne Du Maurier
The Gift by Cecelia Ahern
Do you prefer a certain kind of book in winter?