This mass market paperback edition staring me down from the circular rack at the library was too much to resist; I grabbed it and dropped it into the stroller's bottom basket, hardly breaking my stride toward the check out counters. As I've mentioned before, a lot of my library reads are chosen by virtue of being displayed between the front door and the elevators that we board in order to get up to the second floor where the children's collection is housed. And I've read a couple of Davidson's books before; her mystery series starring Goldy Schulz, caterer and chef and amateur private eye, makes up for what it lacks in editing with the recipe pages setting out how to create the meals and treats that play supporting characters to Goldy as she puzzles out the whodunnit in each story.
Look, I'm no literary snob (see the newly added tag for this post--my need to read sometimes feels more like some sort of wonky addiction than a noble pursuit of enlightenment) but Davidson's books leave me feeling sort of breathless. Not breathless-the magnifigence takes my breath away, but breathless-hamster trapped on the exercise wheel. Even though the books are not terribly short (336 pages in the mass market edition), it feels as if Goldy's adventures are being crammed down to fit in between the covers. Rather than slow down to try and digest every tidbit of information, I rely on my old friend, skimming, to speed up until something new happens.
Will I read more of Davidson's books? Sure. The real question after reading one is which recipe, if any, I'll try first. From Tough Cookie, it's a toss up between and Snowboarders' Pork Tenderloin and Marmalade Mogul Muffins. Yum.
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