Give me an excuse.

Source:  Wikipedia

Statement:  This time of year is made for reading Victorian Gothic fiction.  Frankenstein,  Dracula, Jane Eyre, The Picture of Dorian Gray.  These books just fit the shorter, colder days, the haunting clickety clack of leaves tripping down the sidewalk, wind that howls through the crack under the door while we're warm inside eating soup, bare branches providing a start contrast against a cloudless, moonlit sky. 

At this time of year, I tend to revisit one or more of these old favorites and delight in their deliciously creepy prose and not-really-all-that-antiquated warnings of the corruption of technology and scientific innovation.  I especially love the intensity of the emotions the characters in these novels tend to have...all-consuming passions and fears, loves and hates.  My husband would scoff and call it "emo" but I love it.  I love the complete and utter despair suffered by Frankenstein when his creature is lost to him.  I love how intensely Jane feels for Mr. Rochester, how delightfully hateful Dracula truly is.  Just love it!

And not all the great stuff from this era came out of Great Britain...there are amazing short stories from Nathaniel Hawthorne that will enchant you (for realz!), specifically Rappaccini's Daughter.  (Seriously, read it.)  And of course, Washington Irving's Legend of Sleepy Hollow...CLASSIC.

What this all points to is me wanting some serious quality time with a book, my couch, and a cup of tea.  Can one call into work with a serious case of Need to Read?

Get back to me on that, will you?