Books and Seasons

I don’t have a book review today, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been reading. (I’m always reading, it’s a disease, I think.) I just haven’t been reading anything new. As the weather here has started to turn chilly (er) and the leaves are starting to turn their lovely golds and reds, I’ve been hankering for old friends. And so the familiars are making their way off the shelves. But I’ve noticed I have a seasons rhythm, of sorts, to what I re-read.

Right now, I’m burrowing back into the Harry Potter books. They’re fall books to me. I’m not overly sure why – but they just seem to lend themselves more to the crisp air and crunchy leaves and that hint of woodsmoke you can catch if you sniff at just the right time of day. And so I’ve happily fallen back into a chair by the fire in the Gryffindor common room with a thick, hardcover book in my lap. This afternoon I re-met Dobby for the nth time and have to ponder the delight that must come from having a House Elf.

In the spring, I yearn for Anne and Gilbert and Marilla. Again, I’m not overly sure why, but Anne of Green Gables is a book for the spring. (And really, it’s the whole series – once I start the first, I have to keep going. It wouldn’t be right to not move through Anne and Gilbert’s courtship (The letters! Elizabeth and The Woman!) and wedding and little house near the lighthouse and all the heartbreak and joy that follow them through each stage of their life, even if I get a little annoyed with Anne at the end, as it seems she’s leaving her children to be raised by the housekeeper.)

I’ve started reading The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe with my son at bedtime. He’s enthralled and I’m finding it’s a whole new experience to read it aloud. I don’t know that I’ve assigned a season to it before, but I suspect after this, it’ll be relegated to fall and winter purely from the standpoint of memory.

In the winter, I want romance. Though I doubt I’ll have finished up the Harry books this year, most winters find me with my nose buried in Jane Austen at least once. As well as a few other long time favorites that are decidedly in the category of pulp fiction, but they’re romances that leave you with a happy sigh when you reach the end. I suspect this year, I might revisit The Rose Garden and The Winter Sea (both by Susanna Kearsley) – they would definitely fit the bill for a winter romance.

In summer, I want adventure. I’ll often burrow into book after book in a series by Brad Thor or Vince Flynn or someone along those lines in the summer. (I tend to not read them the rest of the year, so there are often 4 or 5 books to catch up on, it’s a good system for me.) Sometimes a good mystery fits the bill in summer as well, and I’ll find myself reaching for my collection of Dorothy Sayers or Agatha Christie.

Not everyone re-reads, I know that. And the genres I mention aren’t relegated to only the season when I most crave them. If I happen across something or just get a hankering for it, I’ll go and pull it off the shelf. And really, with new books, anything goes most of the time genre-wise. But there are some books that re-reading is like sitting down with an old friend to catch up for an afternoon or two.

Do you re-read? Or have favorite books based on the season?