I solved the what-to-read problem by deciding that I didn’t feel like reading anything sf, not anything at all, and starting a mystery novel that I’d bought a while ago. A Morbid Taste for Bones, Ellis Peters’ first “Brother Cadfael” novel, was purchased because I vaguely thought I’d heard good things about the series, it was two dollars, and it was the first of the series, my preferred starting point.
I’m very pleased; I’ve discovered what bids fair to be another comfort series with lots of books (twenty-odd, I think) to look forward to. I quite like Cadfael (even if I’m not sure how to say his name), and those around him are painted clearly but compassionately in a way I find very soothing. The 12th-century setting feels familiar, from lots of medievaloid fantasies, yet has enough interesting details about life in a monastery, Welsh culture, and so forth to stay interesting. The mystery works out pretty well, too, not excessively convoluted or cutesy, though I’m slightly dubious about an underlying detail of the solution. Overall, I’m quite looking forward to spending more time with Brother Cadfael—and having just brought a stack of books home from the library, I shall probably be doing so soon.
Brother Cadfael himself found nothing strange in his wide-ranging career, and had forgotten nothing and regretted nothing. He saw no contradiction in the delight he had taken in battle and adventure, and the keen pleasure he now found in quietude. Spiced, to be truthful, with more than a little mischief when he could get it, as he liked his victuals well-flavoured, but quietude all the same, a ship becalmed and enjoying it. . . .
When you have done everything else, perfecting a convent herb-garden is a fine and satisfying thing to do.