J and I were trying to remember which books we’d (successfully) recommended to each other over the course of our knowing each other. I can credit her for the introduction to James Herriot, for which I’m deeply grateful, and I don’t think I’d ever read a John Grisham before we met either. More recently, Just Mercy was a discovery of hers, as was Single Gay Christian, the recently published journal of one of her college friends that is being well reviewed everywhere it’s read. She has me to thank, on the other hand, for those sorcerous Harry Potter books, To Kill a Mockingbird, Bridge to Terabithia, and most recently, Erik Larson’s books.
That being said, I have a recommendation for everyone—a 127 page novella that I picked up this afternoon and finished by this evening.
The Uncommon Reader, by Alan Bennett
When her corgis stray into a mobile library parked near Buckingham Palace, the Queen feels duty-bound to borrow a book. Discovering the joy of reading widely (from J.R. Ackleu, Jean Genet, and Ivy Compton-Burnett to the classics) and intelligently, she finds that her view of the world changes dramatically. Abetted in her newfound obsession by Norman, a young man from the royal kitchens, the Queen comes to question the prescribed order of the world and loses patience with her role as monarch. Her new passion for reading initially alarms the palace staff and soon leads to surprising and very funny consequences for the country at large.
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