On Monday I read a post about favorite books here. I am forever updating my to-read and have-read lists, and so I could not believe that I might have somehow missed a book that sounded so wonderful as The History of Love. On Tuesday I picked it up from the library. On Wednesday I couldn’t put it down. Today I drove to the beach first thing this morning, plopped down in my beach chair with coffee in hand and read the remaining 87 pages.
It was truly a marvel, and left me feeling. Well, feeling. I don’t know about you, but books that make me feel as though I have deeply felt the emotions of other humans are my most favorite. And if I can just dwell in the feeling of feeling for a few long moments, I feel full.