I've been reading Nicholas Sparks since 1998; Sparks is my literature crack. Its basic American English, there's nothing challenging about the read. Faulkner he is not. But he writes about my favorite subject: love. Prior, I'd been reading a lot of new age philosophy and for lack of a better term, self help and realization books. In need of a change, I grabbed my sister's copy of The Last Song before heading a few trips ago. I haven't seen the movie, but just knowing Miley Cyrus was part of the cast made it hard to get through. I wanted to paint the characters in my own light, not in Hollywood induced faux glamor-ific spotlights. So I'm reading and reading; I'm enjoying the story about young love and teenage angst while sitting on the jumpseat, at work, en route to Newark. The next thing I know, plot twist, and the tears won't stop! *ding, call button. I'm a mess in the aisle, make up running down my face. Fiercely turning pages while holding the soaked remains of a tissue, and can't stop crying. So embarrassed but I just couldn't put the book down!
So today, now that I'm on day 3 of 5 days off, I was on the beach reading Winter Garden by Kristin Hannah and again with the tears. It was just such a good story! The twists and turns, the plot lines that jump from here to there. Loved it. Worth the embarrassment of weeping at the beach. Even more so than silly Sparks.