Thanksgiving is around the corner, with pies and cooked birds and weird, jelly-like cranberry sauce. Time to be thankful about things before Black Friday hits and we start being greedy for things and deals and Christmas presents and vacuum cleaners.
Books are one of the things I’m thankful for, especially for all the “important” things they taught me…
Les Miserables by Victor Hugo
Thank you for teaching me not to write about the sewers of Paris or French slang or go on and on about Waterloo because everyone will simply skip over those parts.
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
Thank you for reminding me to notice red flags and if you think a guy is weird, you’re probably right and he might even have his crazy wife locked up in the attic.
The Escape Artist by Brad Metzler
They you for teaching me an important writing lesson: if you give a hint there might be magicians in the book, there better BE MAGICIANS IN THE BOOK. (there were not *tear tear*)
The Hot Zone by Richard Preston
Don’t go playing with bat guano and please wash your hands WHERE’S THE BLEACH??!
The House of Usher by Edgar Allen Poe
Thank you for teaching me to make sure someone is dead before I bury them.
The Mystery of Edwin Drood by Charles Dickens
Thank you for teaching me to begin writing a novel but die before it’s finished so everyone can wonder for the rest of time what the end was going to be.
If anyone I know is wondering why nothing by Tolkien is on this list, it’s because I have a special post planned.