I cannot read modern writers.
Last week I borrowed some books from Evva. One was a James Patterson mystery titled, Mary Mary. One was by Ann Rule, who writes about true crime, centering in the Northwest. The last was a Mary Higgins Clark book titled No Place Like Home. Okay, the Mary Higgins Clark book was good. I like her stories, they don’t freak me out. 🙂
However, the other two … had weird dreams all week!! Even woke up screaming one night! So no more of those for me! 🙂
Right now I am reading a collection of Agatha Christie stories. I’m in the Parker Pyne ones right now. I have to say, I love English writers. I love their vocabulary. I love that when something is important they capitalize the first letter of the word (e.g. in Winnie the Pooh, “Now it happened that Kanga had felt rather motherly that morning, and Wanting to Count Things – like Roo’s vests, and how many pieces of soap …”). 🙂 I don’t think I have read very many American writers. I was thinking about that the other day – I’ve never read Tennyson or Thoreau or Emerson … I love Elizabeth Barette Browning, though. And Dickens and Christie, and of course Austen. Although those Bronte sisters depress me, their writing is still good. 🙂
So it is decided. I’m sticking to the classics.
