This is a first for me. Since starting my blog, I am unsure whether to review one of the books that I've read. I've just finished Firefly Summer by Maeve Binchy. Since discovering her novels age fifteen, I've read and re-read her tales about provincial Irish towns, usually set in the 1950s. The stories intertwine the varied eccentric characters of the village - dealing with alcoholism, friendship, childhood, love, abortion (against all the commandments of the Pope and Catholicism). These books are warm, lovable, gossipy and I adore them.
But I'm also vaguely embarrassed by them. I sat here for an age wondering whether ANY of the followers of my blogs would have any interest at all in reviews of these books - so instead decided to open up the question of embarrassment in books you read. Do you experience this at all? Are there novels you would never review, never recommend, hide to yourself? Would you want to see a review of Firefly Summer by Maeve Binchy?
I'm embarrassed in this case because of the slightly aged nature of them, the rife gossiping, the degree of cutesy Irish charm. The covers of many are twee and pastel. And yet I can't resist diving in whenever I am in need of comfort - in this case, the snowy weather that has kept me housebound had me reaching for a book that celebrates the nature of village life.