This might not be an original thought......

Last week I began reading The Story of Avis by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps and it now occurs to me that books are like people. For instance, to me Jane Austen's novels are soul mates, the person one just knows and understands. Someone you can spend years away from and pick up again like you were never parted. Agatha Christie novels are the "fun" person; you know, the one you like to go to parties with because she never fails to entertain you, but truly there is little depth to the relationship. Then there are novels like The Story of Avis or Portrait of a Lady by Henry James; complicated, moody and just plain work to figure out. And yet, I find myself falling in love with these types of works after the initial labor of reading the first five or six chapters. It's funny...last week I was groaning every time I force myself to pick up Avis, and now I am counting the hours until bedtime so I can pick it up again. This novel is that person who initially turns you off, but after a time, the language, nuances, and moods begin to make sense; then you see the attraction so many others rave about.