First let me explain that I am an "Associate" of Amazon. That means if you click on one of my links that leads you to Amazon and you purchase anything through my link, I get a small (read teeny-tiny) commission. I shop on Amazon a lot. My children give me very generous Amazon gift cards. So when I am posting about something that is sold on Amazon, why not provide a link for you to use and perhaps purchase?
Finding a part time job has just not happened in this area of CT which has high unemployment. Selling my photos has not provided an income yet. I keep trying different things. So now I am trying being an Associate of Amazon. If I can figure out how, I will put a link on my sidebar that will lead to Amazon. My son-in-law is a big help with the technical things. Again, if you buy anything through any of my Amazon links, I get a tiny commission. You can tell the photos of the books were borrowed from Amazon.
So, that said, let me tell you about my favorite author. Have you read any books by Rosamunde Pilcher? If not, you are in for a treat. Her books are the kind worth owning because you can read them over and over. She was born in 1924 and sold her first short story when she was eighteen. Mrs. Pilcher grew up in Cornwall, England but reared her four children in Dundee, Scotland where her husband, Graham worked in the family jute business. She first wrote under the name Jane Fraser and published ten books. At the same time she was writing as Rosamund Pilcher.
Her breakthrough book was
The Shell Seekers, a novel in which an elderly British woman relives her life in flashbacks. It deals with the woman’s relationship with her adult children and describes life in Britain during World War ll. It sold five million copies and was adapted for the stage.
Often when I read, I skim through descriptions just to get to the information about the story. Not so with Mrs. Pilcher’s books. Her descriptions are a joy to read and I savor every word. They set the mood and atmosphere. You can almost taste the tea, smell the clean air, and feel the warmth of the fire. And they make me want to eat "sausages."
I just finished
September.
Winter Solstice is one of my favorites. Mrs. Pilcher is described as “Queen of the Heartwarming Bestseller.”
If you would like to read more about her,
Wickipedia has a good site, or her
official web site.
Click here to go to her Amazon page where you can order her books -
Rosamunde Pilcher.
Her son,
Robin Pilcher, is a writer and I enjoy his writing as well. His books start with several unrelated stories, then he weaves the people’s lives together.
Below are excerpts from
September which takes place in Scotland. These passages are examples of the lovely descriptions.
“It had rained during the night, leaving puddles by the roadside and gardens dripping with moisture. In Strathcroy, cottages slumbered, curtains stayed drawn. Slowly the occupants stirred, rose, opened doors, lit fires, made cups of tea. Plumes of peat-smoke rose, straight, from chimney -pots. Dogs were walked, hedges clipped, cars washed. Mr. Ishak opened up his shop for the sale of morning rolls, milk, cigarettes, Sunday newspapers, and any other commodity that a family might need to get through the empty day. From the tower of the Presbyterian church, the bell tolled.”
“Out of doors, the day, like a fickle woman, had ceased to sulk and decided, for no obvious reason, to brighten up. A wind had risen, freshening the air. From time to time, lozenges of sunlight fell upon the polished table, sparking from silver and cut glass tumblers.”
“I know, Edie. What can’t be cured must be endured.”
“That’s true enough,” said Edie placidly, and went to get the kettle and fill it with water. A cup of tea seemed to be in order. There was nothing, in times of stress, like a good hot cup of tea."
"As soon as she had arrived, she had set up the ironing board, and ironed the morning’s load of washing, fresh from the line. This was now stacked, crisp and folded, on the other end of the table, and emanated a pleasant smell."
"The stone wall felt warm in the sunshine, and she leaned her arms on this and gazed downwards at the flowing peat-brown water. Sometimes she and Henry played Pooh-sticks from this bridge, flinging sticks up-stream and then racing back to watch for the first, the winning stick, to appear."
"In the golden evening, Henry walked home. There were few people about because it was nearly six o’clock and they were all indoors eating their tea. He imagined this comforting meal. Soup perhaps, and then haddock or chops and then cakes and biscuits, all washed down with strong and scalding tea. He himself felt pleasantly full of sausages. But perhaps before he went to bed there would be space for a mug of cocoa. "
