ever read a book and wish you’d written it?
happens to me all the time. i suppose it makes sense, since i adore books and my primary passion in life is writing, that i’d be stricken with an extreme case of storyteller-envy. sometimes i’ll read a delicious sentence or a perfectly-crafted description that just explodes with Magic, and i’ll have to fight the urge to bang my head against my desk or use the page to inflict a self-induced paper cut as punishment for not crafting those words myself.

all (hyperbolic) masochistic tendencies aside (is anything really worse than a paper cut??), the point is, i can’t imagine a life without books. i mean, do some people really not read? is that possible? it can’t be good for you. i can lose entire afternoons wrapped up in the world of a story, people and places unfolding before me with all the colors and textures of live theater. i thank God for my overactive imagination and its insistence upon being fed a healthy dose of fiction each and every day.

i feel like i’d be doing a disservice to leave literature out of this blog, so as it’s evolving, i think i’ll add book suggestions. some books are just dying to be read.

and this is one of them:

it’s simply delightful. part historical fiction, written entirely as a collection of endearing letters between the main character (Juliet, who i ADORE and who you will, too – talk about spunk and spitfire!) and an eclectic array of her wonderfully developed friends, this charming book is witty, heartfelt, heart-wrenching and hilarious. and i even approached it a bit skeptically, sure that the letter format would deter me from enjoying it as much as i would a “regular novel.”

i was completely wrong.

read this book. you won’t be disappointed. (and if you are, well…i don’t know what’s wrong with you. you deserve a paper cut.)