She loved it and that fills me with such...contentedness.
My mother and I had opposing tastes in reading when I was growing up. We both read a lot, but she read paperback romance fluff to unwind at the end of the day and I read the classics, fantasy, and even gritty novels. I also enjoy non-fiction, which I've never seen in her hand.
Recently, in her retirement, my mother has started attending a book club. And with all of the Cold Mountain stuff they read, I knew that The Red Tent would be an enjoyable improvement.
I read it during a particularly challenging summer: in Atlanta at my first full time job as a dead-end executive assistant after I'd dropped out of school in April. I remember The Red Tent and Marion Zimmer Bradley's Mists of Avalon as the only moment that didn't shatter my faith in the real world, in work, in an already failing relationship.
My friend Elizabeth keeps asking me if I've ever read The Red Tent. She keeps forgetting who has and who hasn't, for its one of her favorites that she lends out to people. Before I loaned it to my mom, I put my copy in the hands of frolicswllamas and she in turn thrust it onto her mother's reading list. I also bought kesterly her own copy for Christmas and whose mother is reading it now.
It gets around. And for good reason. It's a damn good book.