I’m thinking about the east coast today, a world away from India. When I picked this book out of my bookcase this morning, it brought back memories of a Nova Scotia monsoon… endless rain falling as I sat on the porch in front of a little blue cottage in Capstick… the sound of the waves on the shore lulling me as I read.
Great books always become linked in memory with where you read them, and who you are. War and Peace… any mention of Russia will always remind me of hot days on a tiny pine-ringed beach in Parc du Mont-Tremblant. Tales of knights and dwarves bring to mind a fever-dream in front of the fire in my ex’s house in Saint-Adolphe-d’Howard, from reading Game of Thrones‘ five tomes while recovering from pneumonia. The Columbine massacre will always remind me of Mont-Royal, from reading Wally Lamb’s fictionalization in Montreal’s mountain park.
I’d love to hear about any strange-seeming book-place associations that you may cherish.