I’m stealing this from Kmkat. We’ll see how it goes.
Busman’s Honeymoon, by Dorothy Sayers. The balance of giddy bliss and murder most foul was pretty excellent, and the details of the hanging plant were so realistic I can almost feel it in my hands. My brother and I shared an enthusiasm for Sayers. And Gaudy Night. (paraphrasing here) “She looked in the mirror and decided her dress was sufficiently sub-fusc.” (I hope I spelled that right.)
Kim Stanley Robinson’s Red Mars trilogy. I was convinced the author must be a woman, the books were written so well.
And then Years of Rice and Salt, by above. And Antarctica. Because they are also well-written, tight stories.
I read a bunch of Ray Bradbury when I was young and susceptible. The phrase ‘Rocket Summer’ still reverberates. And OMG looking into the canal and seeing the Martians staring back at them! And the Martians themselves. And There Will Come Soft Rains. Sob.
His Dark Materials. Hester. Sob.
Gilgamesh, by Herbert Mason. Saved my life.
Kristen Lavransdatter, by Sigrid Unsett.
Growth of the Soil, Knutt Hamsun. I lent it to a friend, and told her if it didn’t capture her by the end of the second paragraph, it probably wouldn’t work for her. It didn’t, sadly enough.
And oh yeah, let us not forget Moby Dick.
100 Years of Solitude. “Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendía was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice.” Yes, I had to go look it up to get the words right, but I always remember “his father took him to discover ice.”
Well, that’s ten – nope, eleven chunks. Three of the chunks are trilogies, so I win! I get extra points!
Wasn’t there one of those books, like Misty of Chincoteague Island? That ends with the horse swimming out to sea? There were a bunch of horse books. And oh, geez, The Haunting of Hill House, the Reader’s Digest Condensed version. My brother read it too, and told me he got the chills when she cried out, “Whose hand was I holding?” The little white house with red shutters. Permanently altering my personal color choices.
I think I should stop thinking right now, because this probably could go on for quite a while.
Somebody slept in my chair all afternoon. I was forced to do housework. And then when I got fed up and gently displaced her onto her own chair, she tricked me by acting like she wanted to sit in my lap, and then climbed onto the table and my laptop and lay down and went to sleep.
She’s just messing with my head. But she’s so pretty!