Like Steel Magnolia‘s Annelle Dupuy once said, “I like themes”. If it’s autumn, I’m going to be sipping a pumpkin spice latte wearing an orange sweater and reading something atmospheric and spooky, like Dracula. In winter I wear increasingly ridiculous thigh-high socks and reach for my lingering classic novels with meandering segues and complex class systems to celebrate my frost-born idleness. Come to me, Dickens! I’ve missed you, Anna Karenina! The chlorophyll-drenched tall days of summer find me settling in with short stories and novelettes, my favorite for the season being Ray Bradbury’s superb Dandelion Wine. I usually reach for light, fluffy, and embarrassing books too, enjoying romance novels about young succubi in love and corset-busting damsels.
But spring? What the hell do I do for spring?
I have no idea about spring. To my credit, I rarely experience the same spring as other people due to my ALL-CONSUMING SEASONAL ALLERGIES, spending the season surrounded by pillows of soggy Kleenex hating my life. This year promises not to be as bad as the others given my recent move out of Florida, and I realize that I am neglecting my theming! I don’t even know how to correct it.
So please, readers: what books or stories remind you of the fairest season? I read anything and everything.