One of the many things the former owner of my house left behind was…well, you can see in the video, and that’s not even all of them. I counted: 1116 books in all. Which feels like a spooky confirmation that I bought the right house for me, since I agonized over not shipping my own library over here, and what do you know, a lot of those books were already here.
Though my inherited collection is heavy on mysteries and thrillers, which you might be surprised to hear I don’t read that much of. Not that I don’t enjoy them. But I fear absorbing some plot twist or detail and then using it in one of my own books without realizing it. Every so often, someone on Facebook accuses me of copying Martin Walker, who writes mysteries set in the Dordogne. I understand why a person might think that, since obviously we’re working the same territory. I have no doubt I would like his books, but I have never dared to crack one open because I don’t trust my squirrelly brain not to do something sneaky.
At the moment, it is the canicule, here in the south of France.*
Heat wave. And it’s been hot all right—102 is brutal even when it’s not humid. The only sensible way to proceed is to spend the day lying in front of a fan and reading. With some iced coffee and chocolate. I’m going to start with something by Elizabeth George, and make my way through the stack, if I live that long.
Here’s hoping the weather is less ridiculous where you are.
*“canicule” is Latin for little dog. Sirius is known as the dog star, and it rises just before dawn in July when it tends to be hottest. So that’s where Dog Days of Summer comes from. 🌞
