Judging a Book by its Cover

In my previous post, I mentioned how it has been awhile since I came across a book that I could say that I loved.  Since I wrote that, I started reading  A Week in Winter by Maeve Binchy.  I love it!  It has almost everything I love in a book:  set in Great Britain (Ireland to be exact) and full of back stories so it's kind of jumping around with the setting the lone constant.

I had heard her name over the years but never read anything until browsing good ol' Borders  in 2011 and spotting her then newly released book titled Minding Frankie.  What drew me in was the cover:

I've always had a thing for pictures or artwork that depict people doing things so I loved it as soon as I saw it.  This image was also continued around the back cover.  At 20% off and a failed attempt at saving a bookstore, I purchased it.  The story was good but I found that the storyline was making me agitated.  I suppose that's a good thing that the author drew you into a story where you felt something but it doesn't make for an overall enjoyable reading experience from this end.

In the summer of 2012, Maeve Binchy passed away shortly after completing A Week in Winter.   From my searching in Amazon, this popped up in my recommendation section shortly before it was released.  While I put a moratorium on buying books (I'll save that tale for another day), I couldn't pass this one up (and if I bought something else to make it over $25, free shipping!).  Even though I had another book lined up to read, I was again drawn in by the cover artwork of this book when it arrived:

It wasn't as eye catching as Minding Frankie but I was still kind of drawn in by the people at the door, the lights on in the house, the water reflecting the moon behind it.  I decided to move this one up to #1 in the reading list and so far with about 60% of the way through, I'm glad I did.  After quite awhile of reading books that were perhaps enjoyable at the moment but weren't something I thought was good enough to keep, I found a keeper.

I blame my parents for my enjoyment of this kind of artwork and perhaps my voyeurism in general (Hello? If people leave their curtains/blinds open after dark when they have lights on inside, isn't that an invitation to look as you drive by?).  This picture is of a puzzle that my mom had glued together and word on the street is that it had hung over the changing table when Murf was a wee lass:

 

I think you can probably see a continuing theme as to why I still like this puzzle enough to get it properly framed.  What I will do with it now, I have no clue. It still makes Voyeuristic Murf happy.