COVID Binge reading
Tuesday, May 10, 2022 at 12:44AM COVID stricken, but well enough to read, I indulged myself by doing something novel (no pun intended), rereading an entire series of books, back to back. I exaggerate, but only slightly, there are 11 in total; I had reread the first three over the summer. In my COVID week, I read seven more.
My son who was staying with us got the Big C first; my husband was next to succumb. They were both pretty sick with high fevers and I cared for them through the worst of it, something that, as an ex-nurse, I positively enjoy.
Finally it was my turn. I didn’t get it too badly, but I felt wretched and had zero energy, so I took to my bed and my armchair with said pile of books and serial cups of tea.
The series I chose is a long-loved comfort read for me – the Simon Serrailler detective novels by Susan Hill. Set in a fictional English Cathedral town, the stories are as much about village life as a whodunit. Serrailler, the main detective, also an accomplished artist, is an entitled pain in the proverbial, but his sister, the local GP, Cat Deerbon, is the anchor of the tales as she manages a family, a busy career, a farmhouse and more than her fair share of personal trauma.
There’s a dash of cathedral politics (Cat is a believer, Simon isn’t), a lot about the UK health system and its woes, and each volume features a topical issue: voluntary assisted dying, drugs, child sex trafficking. It’s simultaneously feel-good and confronting – some of your favourite characters will be killed off and Hill traverses some very dark territory indeed. But there is always humanity and resilience in there somewhere, often in the person of Cat.
Bingeing a TV series is not uncommon, but I’ve never had the time to binge read like this. It was more personal, more interior, more all-absorbing because it was just me and the story, literally in isolation from the world. When I put down the tenth book, the last on my shelf, I felt bereft.
My mum had a friend who always left one Jane Austen unread, as he couldn’t bear to think that he had no more of his beloved Austen to discover. I don’t have that kind of discipline. As soon as I was better, I bought number 11 in the series, which I’ve already devoured. Now, I just have to wait in patience for number 12, and hope that I die before Susan Hill stops writing.
Reader Comments (2)
The comfort of books. And a reading room. During lockdown I read Elena Ferrante. Found the first of her brilliant Neopolitan Quartet in a footpath library and was hooked. As you say 'more personal, more interior, more all-absorbing because it was just me and the story, literally in isolation from the world'
Sorry to hear you and your beloved have both succumbed to THE VIRUS Clare. But as ever, there are blessings to be had even in the darkest times. Love and commiserations to you both.