I’m reading this. Well sort of. I’m finding it a bit hard going and am on the point of packing it in. Yet I feel I shouldn’t. This book and my good self are supposed to be a perfect match apparently. According to Amazon, people who like Barbara Pym and Georgette Heyer (me) are supposed to love this. It’s very well written. There’s a lot going on. People I like, like this. People who are well thought of think a lot of this. I really should like it. There is no reason not to like it. I don’t like it.
I am the one that is wrong, I’m certain of it. I apologise if you love it. I have tried to love it. I have failed.
I think it’s in the Screwtape Letters that CS Lewis talks about the demons being unable to get a decent hold on people because they love county cricket or something equally unfashionable. This is because people are not pretending, not trying to impress and are not tied up in themselves and the impression they are making. The important point being that people should be who they are rather than what they think people want them to be. The young people sometimes all agree to like something because everyone else likes it or because it should be liked because it is a “good thing”. As I get older and therefore more shrivelled and cantankerous, I am more and more seeing this as a mistake. It really is fine to be out of step with popular thinking (unless your definition of “out of step” means it’s ok for you to be a serial killer)
So, I’m leaving it if that’s alright with you. I’m off to a nice Kate Atkinson (99p on my Kindle) Don’t let me put you off if you fancy it. It’s just not me that’s all.