I didn’t know this, but apparently I’m the kind of person that would prefer to read a good book than watch TV. Or I was last night anyway. While my housemate sat and watched ‘soap night’, I sat and read my book. I love soap night: (if I’m home in time) 4 episodes of different soaps back to back. My boyfriend hates soaps so I tend not to watch them when he’s around, which he usually is every other night of the week. Soap night was like a guilty pleasure night where I could sit and watch an hour and a half to two hours of soaps.
But recently I’ve not really been bothered. I’ve prefered to read a book. Obviously it means I’ve been reading some good books. I was thinking the other day that I would rather read a book than watch a film. I think, I’m not too sure about that. If I am, I’m not sure I like that.
I finished Coming Home by Melanie Rose on the escalator out of the tube this morning. I literally had 2 pages left when I got off the tube so HAD to read them before I got to work. I love a bit of chick lit and this satisfied me completely. I think I especially liked it as you didn’t know who the heroine was going to end up with – there were 3 potentials there. That’s how my novel ‘Holiday’ is going to play. There’s going to be 2 potential love interests.
I do have a criticism though, no maybe just a dislike. The first chapter happens before she loses her memory. I would have liked it to start after so we, like her, have no idea where she’s come from. Melanie’s got another book that came out a while ago, so I’m going to find that at some point, she’s definitely someone I’ll keep an eye on for new books too.
I’ve now started The Girl Who Played With Fire by Stieg Larsson. So far it’s nasty – I’ve only read the prologue, which is about a girl who’s been kidnapped. Still I know it’s going to be good, and I guess it’s some of the nastiness that makes it good. The last book had really good descriptions of some severely gruesome things so I was picturing them as I was reading. Not always a good thing.
I have read so much this year. It makes up for last year when I read less than 20 books – which I’m still shocked about.
I’ve recently admitted to myself I’m not good at writing descriptions. When I write, I tend to write what people say, and think and the story. There’s never really descriptions of where they are, what they look like etc. Even in Italian Infatuation I left big gaps where I need to fill in details about the countryside and the villa, I don’t even know how detailed charcters are – I suspect not very.
To get over this, I’ve decided to set myself challenges where I HAVE to describe things. There has just been a man sat in reception at work, I’ve done a description of him. I’m going to do people and places. Lots. You know what they say – practice makes perfect!!