How can you NOT love beautiful words?
Do you feel joy when you get lost in beautiful prose?
I saw an article about a summer reading list that brought back warm and wonderful memories of exploring new worlds and meeting new, unforgettable characters.
Yes, I'm a novel geek.
The book that popped into my memory was one that was on my summer reading list of novels I had to consume before starting high school ( a long, long time ago).
That book is Winter Wheat by Mildred Walker. It was published in 1944. Did you ever read it? Here's the funny thing, I don't recall the plot of the book as much as how I recall how the book made me feel -- how desperate I was to continue reading, to find out about Ellen Webb and how her future would unfold.
I just peeked at the first page, and I fell in love with words again. Look at this opening paragraph:
September is like a quiet day after a whole week of wind. I mean that wind that blows dirt into your eyes and hair and between your teeth and roars in your ears after you've gone inside. The harvesting is done and the wheat stored away and you're through worrying about hail or drought or grasshoppers. The fields have a tired peaceful look, the way I imagine a mother feels when she's had her baby and is just lying there thinking about it and feeling pleased.
Do you recall a novel that enticed you to get lost within its pages when you were a child? What was it?