I couldn’t have said it better myself. Though I haven’t read any of Maeve Binchy’s books in many years, they’re still with me. She was kind of like what smart girls graduated to after devouring Judy Blume’s books.
I only remember the names: Firefly Summer, The Copper Beech, Circle of Friends.
When I heard today that Maeve Binchy had died, I was instantly a girl again, pilfering her books from my mother’s bedside table: Firefly Summer, The Copper Beech, Circle of Friends. So immediate and familiar, those names. But, fifteen or more years later, when I looked those titles up, I recognized very little about their plots or characters, the details and particulars – only hazy images and fragments: I may not have read them at all for all I could truly recall about them.
I feel like I’ve read Tara Road but I cannot say for sure. Perhaps my girlish ear just liked the alliteration in the title Light A Penny Candle, but did I ever read it? All I know is those names are so familiar to me, that at some point in my…
View original post 756 more words