There are some authors one reads because they make you feel good, comforted and relaxed, ie - warm and fuzzy. Strangely, these books are seldom those that will be reviewed in the Guardian, the Times or the Independent and literary magazines or, if they do, will be mentioned somewhat slightingly.
I know full well that Maeve Binchy falls into this category. She is a hugely successful writer (I would say 'prolifc' but I gather this is a dirty word in certain literary circles...) and all her books top the best seller lists and are sold worldwide. I have read all of them and I read them when I want a book that is not going to upset me, make me mad or bewildered because I don't understand what the author is getting at and I feel a tad dim. Believe me, this happens a lot.
All of Maeve's books have an Irish background, not surprisingly as she is Irish herself, and are based on family relationships and loves. Problems are solved and most endings are happy, though not all. This may makes them sound trite but they are not. I certainly don't get the feeling that Maeve views the world through rose tinted glasses, she is very alive to deceit and deception and human frailties, but as she writes about these subjects in a fluid easy readable style, I think reviewers view her writing as somewhat facile and, therefore, to be dismissed. This is most definitely not the case. She has an eagle eye and is most perceptive.
I have just finished reading Whitethorn Woods (which has been sitting since November on my bookstack so I am now going to cheat and make this one of my Bookstack Challenges!) and today is my last day at home before plunging back into the world of commute and stress tomorrow, so I felt this book would be perfect to calm me down prior to boarding the 7.18 am in the morning.
This story is set in the small town of Rossmore where a well dedicated to St Ann is situated. Though 
the local people set great store by this well and its miraculous and spiritual properties, others are not so sure, including the local curate who feels it is all superstition. A new bypass is being built and the road will go straight through Whitethorn Woods and the well. Local opinion is divided over this amongst those who wish to retain the well and others who will make huge sums of money selling their land to developers.
This book has 16 Chapters, but really they are a collection of loosely linked short stories, each one told by two protagonists from their point of view. These are not all set in Rossmore but everyone is linked in some way to this town and its fate. Lifelong friends who met on a Kibbutz in Israel visit the shrine to sort out their marriages; a wealthy American who comes back to his childhood town to build a clinic; a childless woman asking for a baby; another asking for a husband - they all have their own reasons for their visits.
I have recently read Moonshine by Victoria Clayton (blogged about just before Christmas) which was set in a crumbling castle in Ireland, and I made the point that all the characters in this book seemed to come out of the Mad Eccentric Off the Wall Irish category of cast list. To a certain extent, the same can be said of this book, though these characteristics are painted in with a much lighter brush. I am sure there are horrid, nasty small minded people living in a small town in Ireland as there are anywhere in the world, but somehow after reading a book like this, I feel a yearning to up sticks and go and live somewhere in the Irish countryside where people seem to be so much nicer.
One of my New Year's resolutions, which is the same as last year and which I managed to a certain degree to keep, is to enjoy small pleasures, be it a book, a film, a bunch of flowers, a bar of chocolate, chatting to friends, blogging (of course!), as these resolutions are no hardship to keep.
I, therefore, have to report that today 2 January 2007 I have just read this delightful book, eaten a bar of chocolate while turning the pages, and have on my system at the moment a recording of Schubert's Octet which is simply sublime and wonderful. May the rest of this year be the same (OK, well it won't but I am going to have a darn good try at making it so)
