The Tiger’s Wife by Tea Obreht, simply because she won the Orange Prize this year and I’m always curious the find out why.
When God was a Rabbit by Sarah Winman, who didn’t win the Orange Prize but definitely is the public’s favorite if sales and reviews are anything to go by.
At Home by Bill Bryson, because no matter what the man writes, you just know it’s going to be good. Plus I’ll have officially read some non-fiction this year.
The Leopard by Jo Nesbo, which is supposed to be phenomenal or so people tell me. I still have to read The Snowman first seeing as this is a follow up but I’m pretty psyched to get my teeth into these bad boys.
The Ice Cream Girls by Dorothy Koomson, also recommended by a friend but I never wanted to buy it because I suspect it will be sentimental drivel but at 1,95£ I’ll give it the benefit of the doubt.
A Widow’s Story by Joyce Carol Oates, who is one of my favorite authors and I couldn’t leave without taking a beautiful hardback version of latest memoir with me.
Money well spent if you ask me, especially seeing as the difference between the pound and the euro is marginal right now. But don’t fear, I didn’t spend all my time in chain stores. Seeing as there aren’t any real cities in the Lake District, only small villages, we only encountered two Waterstones on the periphery. And like any self respecting English village, the Lake lovelies all came equipped with their very own independent bookstore. There were teeny tiny ones, cute ones, some that never closed and all of them had an intriguing selection of new and secondhand books, but what impressed me the most was that each owner knew absolutely everything about the books in his / her shop. Granted their average age was 75, but it was still quite impressive, especially if you have a shop like Michael Moon in Whitehaven:
That's the pumpkin by the way.
No less than 13 narrow rooms filled from top to bottom with books, creating a lushious literary death trap.
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