My grandfather was a reader. He had bookshelves in his house, both in Elgin and in Chetek. Some were from his childhood: Horatio Alger series; some were from later in his life: Have Pen will Travel. I read many of the books on his shelves when I visited my grandparents in Chetek — two that will make an appearance next month.
A book that was not on the bookshelves in either house was a book I found in a box in the garage. As I recall, most of the titles in the box of paperbacks did not seem interesting to me, a teenager. I think they were private eye books and I was not interested in reading those. I did find one book that looked interesting, so I picked it up out of the box and took it down to the long dock to read and sunbathe.
It wasn’t what I expected at all. I think, since I loved Gothic romances (Victoria Holt was one of my favorite authors at the time), I expected it to be about a woman named Fanny who fell in love with a land owner.
I didn’t expect it to be about sex.
I continued reading.
I thrill
To any book like Fanny Hill
And I suppose I always will
If it is swill
And really fil
Thy
—Tom Lehrer, “Smut”
Ok that’s hilarious
You made me laugh. Then Indigo!
Why Grandpa!!
Good choice! LOL
Victoria Holt should have been on my high school list. I forgot about her—and Phyllis A. Whitney.