There are a couple of books I like to read when the weather is really, really hot in summer - To Kill a Mockingbird and Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil - because the settings are so hot it makes me feel cool by comparison. But the other day when it was hot for the fifth day in a row I suddenly remembered strawberries.
In particular, the Jane Austen novel in which some officious female character is taken out for group strawberry-picking on a hot day and goes on and on and on about how lovely until she switches to how insupportable, and I thought: must reread those novels, again.
Isn't it amazing to think of a writer being timeless enough to appeal to readers hundreds of years hence, not just once per reader but repeatedly? Of course, she writes all those wicked asides, saying exactly what anybody of sense would think, about people the like of which still walk among us today - so there's that.
I started with Emma. I'm pretty sure it's not the strawberry-picking book but it does have a picnic that ends badly. And strawberries are in season so I can supply them.