Since I don't really use those, I'm going to participate here, sorry Lena ❤️
Day 1: Author of the year.
It came as a huge surprise for me (but totally not a surprise for any of my close friends), but my author of the year is a person, whose writing style and wordchoice became balm to my soul. It's 📎Elizabeth Strout with her Olive Kitteridge📕
I don't want to spoil the experience of enjoying her book to any of you who might find it worthy of checking out, so here's a mere glimpse into her writing (which compelled me to no end). Just a mundane sidecharacter on our first meeting, but as Strout describes…
Her husband was also named Henry, and Henry Kitteridge, meeting Henry Thibodeau for the first time, was taken with what he saw as an unself-conscious excellence. The young man was vigorous and sturdy-featured with a light in his eye that seemed to lend a flickering resplendence to his decent, ordinary face. He was a plumber, working in a business owned by his uncle. He and Denise had been married one year.