The other day I finished reading Busman’s Honeymoon, by Dorothy Sayers, the very last book in her Peter Wimsey mystery series. It occurred to me as I read the last line (and a sobering last line it was), that I could never again have the pleasure of picking up an original Peter Wimsey novel for the first time. I’ve read all of them. It’s a sad feeling, but not altogether unpleasant. I feel rather like I’ve come the end of a long journey. The journey was wonderful, but it’s nice to be home and able to curl in front of the fireplace with a cup of tea. And a book, of course.
Perhaps it’s just me—and I’m strange, I know—but I tend bond with the characters in my books. And so I miss those I met on the journey: Lord Peter, the Dowager Duchess, Harriet Vane, Chief Inspector Parker, Bunter, Pickled Gherkins (also known as Saint-George, but that’s not nearly as funny). But the good thing is they’re still there, just waiting for me to pick up Whose Body? or perhaps Have His Carcase and dive back into their world.
Long days and pleasant nights from the Tale-Weaver.