"Aye, he were a right decent feller."

You all know that I am a bit of a reader... lol ;) And I have lots and lots of favorites. People sometimes ask me to name a favorite, and I usually mentioned some of my favorite sophisticated, intellectual writers like C. S. Lewis, or Douglas Adams because I was a little embarrassed to honestly come out and admit to the truth (even to myself). But after 28 years of reading all types of books and authors I am finally going to admit to having a favorite author.  James Alfred Wight, also known as James Herriot.

I have spent the last few weeks re-reading James Herriot's books, and as I read, I realized that his writing has everything I love: well drawn, colorful characters, empathy for humans and animals, a good story, humor, respect for the hard working people of the land, and a true appreciation for the land. But there is something beyond this, something that I just can't explain, and to even try would just make me sound silly.  So I am not even going to try. Those who have read his books and loved them will understand. 

James Herriot was even my first celebrerty crush. Even though when I started reading his books at the age of 13, he was in his late 70's and dying of cancer - I decided then that I wanted to marry someone like him. Warm, modest, bemused, gently humorous, unassuming, down-to-earth, generous, caring... and just plain nice.  Plus, he was flat out hillarious. He still has me laughing out loud with his gift for telling stories about the absurdities of life. His writing never fails to delight me, he puts a smile on my face whether he is breaking my heart or making me giggle helplessly. 

True, there are better authors out there, and better books have been written, but Jame Herriot holds a special place in my heart that I rather doubt will ever be filled by anyone else.