Getting back to the olden days

Most of my non-genre reading (and by that I mean non sci-fi/fantasy, because that is what 'genre' has come to mean in my head, so don't shoot me please) is of the cop/thriller variety. I can't really pinpoint the exact moment that this state of affairs came into being but I do know that it never used to be this way.

In my younger years; for almost the entirety of my school life, in fact; I was all about the history. Naturally, sci-fi/fantasy was my first love, but when I did branch out, it was into the time streams, not onto a beat. Bernard Cornwell is of course the name that immediately springs to mind, so prolific was he; and so beloved of my local library, so never out of reach; but there were others.

Very few names have survived the gradual degradation of my memory cells, which is a shame as I vividly remember the feeling of reading and loving these works, and would dearly love to be able to recommend, and maybe even revisit some of them.

Masters of Rome 1: The First Man In Rome

I do remember one particular series that I was very much into; although I don't think I ever finished it; was the Masters of Rome series, by Colleen McCullough, which charted the Roman Empire over a hundred years or so. That's one I think I'll definitely return to.

  I'm telling you this because having caught up, almost, with the crime series I came late to and had a backlog of (mostly Mark Billingham and Kathy Reichs stuff) I figured rather than the original plan of starting another big haul; contenders were the alphabet books by Sue Grafton or the Alex Cross books by James Patterson; I'd take the opportunity to return to the history books. I just have no idea where to start.

Bernard Cornwell's Grail Quest series. On the shelf.

I have picked up a load of Cornwell books that he's brought out since I stopped reading him; because he apparently never stops writing, ever; but I'm wary of getting sucked into that trap of trying to keep up with a really prolific person and never reading anything else. So I took a plunge and picked up a couple of chunky omnibuses from authors I've never read that, while big in themselves, are at least complete. A trilogy called Viking, by Tim Severin, and a collection of short stories about a guy called McAuslan by Flashman author George MacDonald Fraser. I flipped a coin to see which got read first.

Can't Sleep? Take one chapter before bedtime.

Viking it was. The first of the 3 novels contained in the book is called Odinn's Child. It's dull. It's brain freezingly dull. It is a novel, about Vikings. And it's dull. It has battles and feasts and quests. And it's dull. Reading this novel is legitimately one of the toughest challenges I've ever faced as a reader; the urge to toss it aside being so strong so much of the time. When I finished it, and was faced with the prospect of reading the second novel; Sworn Brother; I cried a little before shaking my head and admitting defeat. It stands neglected now upon my shelf awaiting it's return to my good graces.

I will read book 2. And after a no doubt equally essential sanity break, I will read book 3. But not yet. Oh no.

So the utter tedium of more Viking stories and the, one hopes, slightly more fun McAuslan stories await me in my future. Beyond that, who knows. Maybe I'll bow to the inevitable and sink into another Cornwell series. Anyone who wants to suggest something new, feel free in the old comment box below. I'll try anything once.