Do seasons matter?

Have you read a book set in a winter wonderland while you lie on the beach in August? Can you read a book about summer when you’re curled up by the fire in February?

I read Winter Garden in May this year. Incredible mother-daughter story. Powerful. I was so happy I read it near Mother’s Day, because that holiday makes me think of my mom so much and it felt so poignant. But much of the book occurred in winter. Dual storylines in freezing, difficult times laced with internal struggles. I know I would have enjoyed reading the book anytime of year, but the season I was living in, sweetened the mother-daughter theme in my mind.

I read The Help in summer. I think part of me actually sat in Aibileen’s kitchen, sweating in the late night heat with the sound of the typewriter click-clacking behind me. I tasted the lemonade and sweet tea served on porches and as I wished away our summer heat, I rejoiced when Skeeter’s father installed their first window A/C unit.

Have you ever enjoyed a Christmas story outside the months of November and December? I couldn’t bring myself to pick up such a book unless it’s cool enough outside to drink hot cider, and only before January first.

Tell me what you think: does it really matter when you read a book? Novels provide an escape from your real world. But tell me, how has your environment enhanced or detracted from the setting in a novel you’ve read lately?

(FYI: While I recommend the story, Winter Garden contains some foul language.)