On Comfort Reading

As readers we often talk about comfort reading, and a lot of us have go-to genres, series, authors or individual books that we look to for comfort and relaxation. Unsurprisingly, for a long time I’ve turned to SFF for my comfort reading, whether that’s Warhammer fiction, Terry Pratchett, or more recently things like Rivers of London and The Murderbot Diaries. As a reviewer, reading purely for the enjoyment of it (as opposed to reading for the purpose of reviewing) is something I think a lot about, and recently I’ve noticed something interesting – that my comfort reading has actually involved reading quite a lot from outside my usual comfort zone. With that in mind I thought I would take a brief step away from my usual SFF focus here on Track of Words and talk a bit about the sorts of books I’ve been finding comforting of late. In particular, about two genres which I wouldn’t ordinarily cover here, but which I’ve been enjoying reading very much: crime fiction, and nature writing.

It always strikes me as ironic that so many people turn to crime fiction for a bit of comfort reading (murder and the criminal mind being the natural topic for easy reading, of course!) but while crime was never really my genre of choice I’ve found myself reading more of it lately. There is genuinely something comforting about starting a detective novel safe in the knowledge that for all the violence and death to follow, the detective will inevitably get to the bottom of the mystery. Of course that doesn’t necessarily apply to all crime books…but a large proportion do follow fairly similar patterns, and the satisfying moment of catching the killer isn’t the only familiar element either. The very nature of a police procedural means the reader knows roughly how the story is going to proceed, and while it’s fun to read something that subverts this sort of trope, at the same time it’s often nice to just sit back and enjoy following a story to its inevitable end.

I’ve recently become a bit obsessed by LJ Ross’ DCI Ryan series (incredibly, not least for a self-published series, the second most popular series on Amazon of all time, beaten only by Lee Child’s Jack Reacher), which I’ve been devouring in audiobook form, narrated by the incomparable Jonathan Keeble. They’re all set in the north-east of England, each one exploring a different location, and while the plots are largely interesting and entertaining, the real joy for me has been in simply following the lives of – and becoming very fond of – a central core of really great characters. I’ve also been digging into some vintage crime fiction like Masako Togawa’s The Master Key (translated from Japanese by Simon Grove) and Margaret Millar’s The Listening Walls, both published by Pushkin Press. These have been quite different to the modern crime stylings of LJ Ross, but satisfying in their own rights, and wonderfully evocative of (for me) distant times and places.

Reading more crime fiction has been fun, but what I’ve really been enjoying lately is getting into nature writing, which I’m finding deeply soothing and relaxing – especially in audiobook form. This really isn’t a genre I’ve had much experience with in the past, and I wouldn’t previously have said that I was much of a naturalist (that’s naturalist, not naturist – stop giggling at the back); I’ve always enjoyed being out in nature, but I’ve never lived in the countryside or been much of a walker/birdwatcher/gardener etc. Perhaps it’s a result of living in one of the biggest cities in the world – where I live in London is quite green as cities go, but it’s still a city, and having lived here for quite a long time I definitely do miss being by the sea, and getting to spend time in the peace and quiet of the natural world.

Whatever the reason, reading and listening to nature writing not only helps to calm me after the frustrations of work and London living, but it also feels like it gives me a connection I didn’t have before to the world around me – that sounds a bit hippy I know, but it’s true! Since reading Kate Bradbury’s The Bumblebee Flies Anyway I’ve started to see gardens in a different light (I don’t have a garden of my own, but I see plenty on my daily walks), looking for those with a little wilderness to attract and support wildlife, and wondering what I would do if I had some green space of my own. I’ve started to try and identify the birds I can hear – having learned about living with ravens and starlings in Esther Woolfson’s beautiful Corvus – and the trees I can see – after listening to Melissa Harrison describe her walks in the Suffolk countryside in The Stubborn Light of Things. I’m increasingly drawn to walking by the sea on my semi-regular visits to Dorset, the more so since reading Raynor Winn’s compelling, heartbreaking The Salt Path.

Inevitably, the more I read about walks in the countryside or by the sea, the rewilding of farmland or the history of the Thames, the more envious I become of those who have better access to nature…or who simply make the time to go out and find nature more than I do. But that’s ok, because I’m starting to try and find the time too, to make the most of what nature I can see on a daily basis, and to seek out more nature writing to broaden my horizons yet further. Whether listening to Tilda Swinton narrate Nan Shepherd’s classic The Living Mountain, or veering out of straight-up nature writing and into tangential titles like Caroline Crampton’s The Way to the Sea (the aforementioned Thames history: fascinating) and Katherine May’s Wintering – part nature writing, part exploration of mental health – I keep finding books that are not only comforting but fascinating too, and deeply thought-provoking.

Of course the joy of reading is that we all take different things from what we read, and what we find comforting doesn’t have to be fixed – it can change depending on our mood, where we are, what else is going on in our lives, and so on. I’m finding crime and nature writing comforting right now, but maybe that will change in a few months! I’m also still reading SFF to relax too (despite the inherent darkness, I still find Warhammer fiction to be very easy to read!), and other things as well – I read my first ever Marian Keyes recently (Watermelon: wonderfully observed, and hilarious), and I continue to find great delight in MG Leonard and Sam Sedgman’s Adventures on Trains series of middle grade novels (seriously, they’re so much fun!).

But those are just some of my newfound comfort reads. What do you read for comfort? Get in touch in the comments below, or over on Twitter, and let me know!

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