Naturally, I Read a Few Books....

I've mentioned that I try to read works by popular writers whose books, for whatever reason, I've missed sampling: this time I picked up a copy of John Grisham's "The Painted House". Though the story is not typical of the Grisham's legal-thriller plot lines, I enjoyed it. Told through the voice of it's main character as he remembers the events of a pivotal summer in his life when he was seven years old, the story made me think of "To Kill a Mockingbird" or "Christmas Story" or William Faulkner's "The Reivers". Populated by a rich array of funny, strange, mean, sad and sometimes frightening characters, the action goes from high humor to to scary and tense scenes; in other words, a very enjoyable book. I read this book on the train during my commute to and from work in the city; as I read, I felt totally removed from my seat on the train and transplanted to a farm in Arkansas in 1952, a part of the sights, sounds and fragrances of a rural life not so long ago.

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