The Moonstone

My quest for fiction that I could enjoy reading lead me to The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins. A familiar title by name but one I had never read before. There is a certain quality to the storytelling that appeals to me - and it may have everything to do with the kind of fiction I read when I was first able to choose my own books. Those were not times of choice or abundance. The local library was stocked with books that were donated by people who longer had any use for them. Frequently, the belonged to the older generations. When the person had passed on, their family needed to clear the space for the burgeoning ranks of the living. It was good that the books found a home in the library. Thanks so such provenance, I grew up reading literature that was popular and fashionable a few generations ago. 

That seemed to have set my tastes in literature in a certain almost inflexible way. There must be some intangible qualities that are shared between these books I encountered in my early reading life. When I see them reflected in a more modern book, it is easier to get into the flow of reading it and often liking it. The more it deviates from that quality palette, the harder it is to like. The pacing and the overall flow of the storytelling seems to be the most important factor. Deviations in that area have a jarring effect and make the book unreadable to me. The experience of reading Wilkie Collins made me wonder about the books J read early in her life - of her own choosing and how that has shaped her as a reader.