I don't read many novels because I prefer the sometimes raw reality of non-fiction. Many people have explained that their love of works of fiction stems from a desire to escape. I get it. Being transported to another time, place, or circumstance can do for us what a vacation can do but it doesn't cost as much. On one occasion I read a period novel. I'm really not sure what came over me and moved me to the dark side of reading fiction but I did. I don't recall the name of the book or most of the plot of this novel, but I vividly remember the opening scene of the book. The setting was in the 17or 1800's. A young woman, perhaps in her 20's or early 30's was sitting alone in a dark sitting room of her home where she lived alone. She sat in a rocking chair. It was dark as the sun had long past set. Electricity didn't service the home therefore, there were no lights. Of couse she had lamps and candles but none were lit. There was only the glow of th
