It’s my mom’s fault I am such an avid reader. In the 35 years that I have known my mother, I have never known her to have fewer than five books checked out of the library at a time. There is a spot near their fireplace that is a bottomless piles of books–the titles change each time I am there, but the pile is constant.
Mysteries are my mom’s brain candy of choice and I would not be surprised if she has read every mystery in our local library. Twice. From time to time she will read a non-mystery book that someone recommends to her. (In fact, she picked up The Great Gatsby after my review of the movie.) A couple weeks ago she asked me if I had ever read Mennonite in a Little Black Dress by Rhoda Janzen. It was autobiographical and pretty “cute” my mom said.
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