I’ve noticed something about myself. I seem to have a lot to say about a book while I’m reading it, especially as I get towards the end. Once I finish it, all the deep, elegant thoughts I had stewing turn dry and lumpy. As though closing the story distances me.
Since I’m almost done with Virgin River by Robyn Carr, I wanted to get some ideas down before they turn to mush and I move on to the next thing.
I was sitting with my husband the other night and decided to read the blurb on the back of the novel. I laughed. If that was all I had to go on, I never would have picked it up to read. A widow who wants to start fresh by leaving the city to live in a rural mountain town with a handsome, charming man and an abandoned baby.
Although, now that I think about it, I left a city for a fresh start in a mountain town and met my husband and decided to stay when staying hadn’t been the plan. I had a bad ex instead of a dead husband, and there was no abandoned baby. But nothing in the book blurb sounded like my kind of read.
Last year, I took the kids on a vacation with my mom, my sister, her husband, and their dog to a cabin in the woods, surrounded by other such cabins/houses. They had Netflix and I randomly put on Virgin River because none of us had watched it yet. We were hooked. It’s not my usual kind of show, but I really enjoyed it.
They released Christmas episodes for the holiday and I decided to try the books after watching them. I’m glad I did. I love the book. I like the slower pace of the story. I couldn’t handle the show having a slower pace, but with the book it’s nice.
I really appreciate how the main romance is effortless, and yet, has its challenges. It doesn’t take forever to happen, but isn’t magically simple. I love the array of characters and getting a larger experience with all of them.
I appreciate having seen the show first so I can insert images. I have a hazy sort of imagination. There are only a few authors who have really painted clear pictures for me (Elliott James is the only one I can think of at the moment).
The one character that keeps making me giggle, though, is Jack. He’s shorter in the show than in the books, but I prefer what he looks like in the show, so some of the action is funny because he’s supposed to be really tall and I’m picturing someone who’s definitely not six feet.
I guess that’s it for now. Hopefully I can finish it soon. I’ve got too many books I’m itching to read.
The Accidental Domestic Goddess 