There are some days when I can't get into a book to save my life. I open it, and look at the words on a page but can't comprehend a thing. I'd be hard-pressed to recall what I'd read a few minutes later. That's not to say the book was bad or poorly written by any means. It's just a lack of concentration on my part because there are 30,000 other things going on in my head that are just a little more interesting at that particular moment.
Then there are days like today. Days where all I want to do is read and I find myself quite grumpy that I can't curl up at my desk at work and dive right in. Some books are just that good and some days are just that un-interesting. I'm currently reading the follow up to "A Year in Provence", "Toujours Provence" which on paper doesn't seem to be a knock-out. It was written over 20 years ago and the copy I currently have is that old, so it's a bit dark and dingy. But after reading "A Year in Provence" in a few days, I just knew I had to pick up another by the brilliant Peter Mayle.
It's nothing earth-shattering or edge of your seat. It's just short stories of his and his wife's quiet life in a (what is, I'm sure, based on the description) stunning home in France. I'm not sure what grabs me about these books, aside from the obvious: France is a dream destination of mine. But I lean more towards Paris, not really Provence when planning my voyage with my future lottery winnings (whenever that may be). It could be the unimaginable meals and parties he has the opportunity to partake in. I'm a sucker for a good food story! Or it could just be the style in which he writes. I'd kill to turn a phrase like he does.
Whatever it is, it's just fantastic and I'm quite happy to have one of those un-put-downable book kind of weeks. They are infinitely more enjoyable!
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