I was super excited about RIP VIII back at the beginning of September, despite having a life-long aversion to anything that relates even remotely to things going bump in the night. I think that what blogging is teaching me is that I am very impressionable when it comes to anything bookish. Actually, though, I read some really good books that fit in perfectly with the gloom and general rain and increasing darkness of September, were masked by sunshine in the US and then gave a good run up to Hallowe’en. Being a sheep has its advantages!
I signed up to read 4 books and thought I’d struggle. At the time, I was enthusiastic but sceptical. A book every other week that was written with the heebie jeebies in mind? Sounded a bit like a recipe for landing myself in therapy, to be honest. And YET! And yet, and yet and YET. I read five whole thriller-y books in the two months so I win. It’s six if you count the cosy tale of murder by quiche but I’m not because I could have read that in the house on my own in the dark with Dracula round for tea and I wouldn’t have been scared of it. Of Dracula, probably, but not the deathly quiche…
I’ve only managed to get to reviewing one of these, because I’m a bit naff when it comes to reviews these days but I’ve included ratings (out of 5) to prove to you that I’ve really read them…ALSO, I don’t have the internet at home after our move yet (but will have after this weekend!!) so forgive the two week delay in rounding up, please!
Agatha Raisin and the Quiche of Death by M.C.Beaton (2.5 stars) – Books like these are my guilty pleasure. As Hanna kindly pointed out yesterday, they are exactly the kind of book that are loved by grandmas the world over but they’re cute and inoffensive and easy to read and fun so…I still read them. Even when I get infuriated by the often nosy and interfering amateur investigators, I read them. Agatha Raisin was about as much of a busy body as it was possible to get and I totally guessed the murderer but I bought two of the later books yesterday so…yeah, cosy mysteries are my literary weakness.
Films are where I stop being brave. In a fit of courage, I ordered the recent adaptation of The Woman in Black from LoveFilm and persuaded Boyfriend that I’d read the book and, although it was a bit ghoulish and creepy, it wasn’t absolutely terrifying and I was pretty sure that we would be ok spending our Sunday evening watching the film. What. A. FOOL! The film doesn’t exactly follow the book so I was a bit wrong-footed and confused at first. Then the middle came and I was extremely freaked out – it wasn’t the sinister aspects of the story itself that was scaring me but the loud noises and horrid sound effects and disturbing music and…well, ARGH! My eyes at least read at a pace that they can absorb horror in and throwing it into my face with loudness is just…no, thank you. By the end, I was more-or-less permanently behind my cushion and then befuddled by the changed ending that doesn’t really find with the book at all…all in all, not a great foray into the world of horror on the screen and one that convinced me that at least in one respect, I’m still a hopeless wimp. Phew!