I’m visiting my parents for the weekend, and I’ve finally – in between being informed I no longer have a bedroom, going off to the spa for pampering and figuring out a tricky plot point of the novel whilst swimming forty lengths – gotten round to going through the many boxes of books in the attic and deciding what I wanted to keep. I was going to photograph the entire process for posterity, but

a) the attic is very dusty

and

b) I couldn’t be bothered changing out of my pyjamas.

However, I have found:

Carol Goodman‘s first three novels (one of which is one of my favourite books of all time – although as in the post below, OMG mystery authors, stop making your plot twists so damned…untwisty).

Sara Ryan‘s Empress of the World, which my father swear blind he threw out years ago (out of a desire to tidy, not out of homophobia).

Madelaine L’Engle‘s A House Like a Lotus

Patrick Suskind – Perfume (which I first read when I was ten. I feel as though this explains a lot)

Michele RobertsImpossible Saints (I liked this a lot more until I realised she’d basically ripped the entire concept from her earlier book, The Wild Girl)

Peter Carey – Oscar & Lucinda

K.M Briggs – Kate Crackernuts, one of my all-time favourite fairy stories and one I’d quite like to re-write one day

Jean Racine – Phedre (tr. Ted Hughes)

One or two of these are coming back with me when I head down to London later today, but the rest will have to wait until we’ve bought more bookshelves….

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