Down at the Purple Ink Ranch last week, Donna and Michele and I tossed around the idea of blogging about our favorite authors. I was all in! But now, after a week I’m still struggling with this assignment.
In truth, the only thing I could come up with is “all of them and none of them.”
Being a reader from an early age I have formed perhaps a bit of a bizarre way of looking at the books and authors I read. Don’t get too creeped out here, but I view them as very real friends who bring to me very real insights, comfort and challenges, just as all the wonderful people of my life do every day.
Jane Austen and Barbara Michaels whisk me away on romantic adventures, just as my friends Lauren and Michele also do.
My friend Cyndee has shared her wisdom derived from her various life experiences the same as Elizabeth Gilbert. Tara and Shannon show me the lighter side of everyday life as much as Jill Churchill and countless other female cozy mystery writers.
Teresa and Tracy are my practical, level headed friends who share the shelf, so to speak with Agatha Christie and Mary Roberts Reinehart. Both have sharp minds and enough level headedness to solve any of my life’s mysteries.
My good friend Donna reminds me of the good times I had reading Carl Sagan. Science is boundlessly amazing; let’s have fun with it!
My friend Kenneth calls to mind the mystical understatements I discovered when reading, “The End of the Affair,” by Graham Greene and Thomas Merton’s, “Seven Story Mountain.”
I could never turn my back on Thor; himself a wild mixture of A.A. Milne and W. Somerset Maugham.
Greg and A. Conan Doyle are forever there for me when I need people to show me the over the top obvious I can’t see.
Rob, Poppa and Leo T. are there for me when I feel the world needs stripping away.
My sons call to mind any Arthurian book I have ever read with a dash of Tolkien. It’s thrilling to me when any of them, author or son, calls me to share in their adventures.
My husband, well, I couldn’t go through life with out this humor, just as I can’t pass up any Bill Bryson. And my husband fills our house with tradition and stability, just as Charles shows up every Christmas to tell me again the story of an old man visited by three ghosts.
And what of me? What literary figure do I compare myself to?
I thought for a long time on this and there are two which come to mind. But be aware! I am in no way implying or alluding I have even a smidgen of their talent or grace, I only compare myself to them in my aspirations.
Will S. and Homer.
Both of them saw it all and were able to write it down!