The taxi, an old Rover smelling of old cigarette smoke, trundled along the empty, country road at an unhurried pace. It was early afternoon at the very end of February, a magic winter day of bitter cold, frost, and pale, cloudless skies. The sun shone, sending long shadows, but there was little warmth in it, and the sloughed fields lay hard as iron. ...The Shell Seekers by Rosamunde Pilcher
"At the end of a long and useful life, Penelope Keeling's prized possession is The Shell Seekers, painted by her father, and symbolizing her unconventional life, from bohemian childhood to wartime romance. When her grown children learn their grandfather's work is now worth a fortune, each has an idea as to what Penelope should do. But as she recalls the passions, tragedies, and secrets of her life, she knows there is only one answer...and it lies in her heart."
Recently, someone in a FB reading group I belong to, had just finished The Shell Seekers and thanked whoever recommended it because she said it was a phenomenal read. She had waited forever before actually reading it and couldn't understand why she waited so long... what's funny is, the same evening I read her post, I had actually found my copy of The Shell Seekers that I pulled out to photograph for my post about the demise of the mass market paperback. I must have bought that book over 15 years ago AND I still haven't read it...yet. Is it fate that I read that post after finding my copy on my bookshelf? Is it a coincidence that the story opens at the "very end of February" and I'm posting this the day before "the very end of February"? I guess I should get reading. BTW, I might pick up a newer copy because when I opened up that mass market paperback copy (from 1989), as pretty as it is, the text is SO SMALL! Is it these old eyes?? I never really noticed before. lol....
P.S. My friend had insisted that I read this because HE enjoyed it so much!
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