I'm reading a terrific mystery series by Nicci French. The author is actually a married couple, and perhaps that explains some of the density and complexity of plot and characterization. The central character is Frieda Klein, a psychotherapist, who has flaws of her own and amazing intuition and ability to see beyond what people say and do to the heart of the matter. Her compassion is close to a detriment, as she focuses on seeking out the truth to the detriment of her safety. She's also struggling with her own tormented past and developing a relationship with a man. In all this she compells us, because she IS us. The darkness she unveils is our own as well.
I am fortunate because I read the first in this series of six and then bought the rest and am reading them in order. That doesn't often happen, but I now try to do that because it makes the reading and experience so much richer. Here is how engaged I am: yesterday afternoon before dinner I finished the third book and in bed last night I began the next, eager to see how my characters are getting on. My friend yesterday called me the great reader, and I know my reading habit it fueled by my eye disease, as there will come a time I can't read, but more directly, my reading got me through a sometimes lonely childhood, and taught me much my parents did not know. My personal morals I learned from books, my empathy for all cultures, peoples and creatures are also a gift. Escape it may be, but my life has been infinitely enriched by reading.
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