It all happened because I had been ill. The painkillers had been making my brain woolly and I couldn’t concentrate and yet it was so frustrating lying there with only my own thoughts – books, music and television; nothing could hold my attention. None of the unread books on my mini iPad were in the least interesting. So I made yet another try at the Library to find something readable to download The first book my eyes alighted on was Mrs Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs.
With a name like Mrs Peregrine my muddled thought processes assumed it be be yet another pleasant offering from Persephone Books. Such gentle, pleasant books. Sure to be just what the patient needed. After all, Mrs Buncle’s stories came from Persephone so surely Mrs Peregrine must also be from that stable. How wrong I could be.
What I found was schoolboy Jacob who had long listened to his Grandfather’s tales of escaping from war torn Europe and his life in an orphanage on an island off the Welsh coast. After his grandfather’s mysterious death the 16 year old manages to visit the island and finds out about the time loop and the magical people who inhabited his grandfather’s world. It was when I finished that I found out that I had been reading a Young Adult novel. So now I can join the local librarian with teenage children who is a great fan of Young Adult novels.
The book evolved from a series of strange old photos the author had collected
I’m beginning to wonder though how many of the book bloggers I follow actually read just for the pleasure of reading or are just racing ahead to keep up a monthly quota or to fulfill an obligation to review. Does that affect their enjoyment of reading ? I enjoy reading reviews except for those few who give away so much of the plot that it’s hardly worth reading the book. But while I’m reading I don’t want to have part of me making mental notes of points worth including in a review. I just want to immerse myself in the book and when finished take the time to stop and smell the roses before diving into the next. Luckily we are all different.
And so, after an interval of Mrs Peregrine wafting along behind me, I now remember her Home and its occupants with amusement and affection