I Do Love A Good Adventure

Being sick means comfort reading. There are a number of books I can read endlessly and never be sick of: The Three Musketeers, The Count of Monte Cristo,* Tom Sawyer, and Through The Looking Glass And What Alice Found There. Then there are the authors and series that I have obsessed over: Agatha Christie,** Dashiell Hammett, and Patrick O'Brian.

Yes, it's true: I've returned to the comforting arms of Jack and Stephen, who remain the most charming couple of naval gentlemen the world of fiction has ever known. I must say, however, that well into the second book (of twenty), I am reminded of how tedious it can be when they're on shore. Jack is spending unwisely and having misguided affairs and Stephen is crawling after wildlife and pining after Diana. Guys, just go to sea already: I'm getting sick of this "peace" business and we all know it's going to end in fifty pages anyway. Valiant sea battles! Setting the studdingsails! Come on!

I may just have to switch to Monte Cristo if this book keeps them on land much longer, although there too I will, as usual, skip the first fifty pages, which are horrifically boring. Yes, yes, it's important to know why he spends the next nine hundred pages seeking out truly horrific revenge, but I've read it two dozen times: I don't need to be reminded. Straight to the revenge!

But first I'm going to make myself a cup of tea: I'm supposed to be getting comfortable, after all.


* Oooh, it's been ages since I've reread that one! I shall bump it up the list.
** Except all those Miss Marple stories, which sucked.