Okay, so. It's a sunny day, I've been to the farmer's market, we're stocked to the gills with this week's vegetable haul... I'm feeling open and prone to sharing right now. It's time I tell you, my friends and family, about a problem I have.
I am addicted to Kathleen O'Neal Gear and Michael Gear's "North America's Forgotten Past" series. You may have heard of these books previously, seen them seemingly multiply on a bookshelf at a used bookstore near you with incredible abandon and speed. One day you go and there are two of them, the next day four or five, ten the week after that. Even the used bookstore employees don't seem to know where they're all coming from.
You've seen these books before. You know you have.
I'm talking about People of the Wolf, People of the Raven, People of the Silence, the myriad and many books Kathleen O'Neal Gear and Michael Gear have written for this series. They've written others, of course, for other series or as stand-alones. But the "People of the" books are the ones I am most addicted to.
These are books, written by these white archeologists, about prehistoric/early Native America. This is the heavily-researched equivilant to Clan of the Cave Bear, seriously. Some of their novels run parallel to certain myths for various tribes, some are just responses to what evidence has been found.
Their books are all inspired by archeological finds/digs, most of which they have seen themselves but occasionally just ones they have read up on and researched. They research heavily each archeological site before they start writing the books. The bibliography/references list at the end of each book is all but a shopping list for me. Still. Oh still. I should not like these books. They are so problematic. They are full of shamans and mysticism and talk about the winding spirals and Power and Dreams and Dreamers and some crazy stereotypin' but they've also got these amazing paragraphs on food & food preparation, how one made clothing, what kinds of clothing people wore, weapons they used, all these details that are so specific to time and place and it's so lovely and and and
I DO. I DO. I DO LIKE THEM.
I LIKE THEM SO MUCH. I HAVE A WHOLE SHELF OF THEM. A WHOLE SHELF. I AM ACTUALLY RUNNING OUT OF ROOM FOR THEM ON THAT SHELF.
I found the first one, People of the Wolf, at a used bookstore the other day and just about had an attack of audible squee-ing over how happy I was about it. I have seen it, occasionally, but have never actually bought it and I hadn't seen it in any stores in a while. I was beginning to worry I would be unable to find it. I am considering using some of my quarters and a teensy bit of my 'credit' at said bookstore and buying it right now. I'm worried it might be gone by Monday when I go back. I'm actually worried about that.
Clearly, there is something terribly wrong with me.
I just love books, okay? I own books the way some women I know own shoes, with twenty variations on the same theme because they're not the same, okay? I need them all.
I had to get that off my chest.
I hope you can forgive me my absolutely terrible book taste.
P.S. I also own Clan of the Cave Bear. You may now throw rotten vegetables at me.