My going to sleep routine always involves reading a book. Holidays involve reading a book. A beautiful day and a chair on the verandah, eating breakfast, eating lunch, waiting for a bus. They all involve reading.

The desire to read can be knocked off its pedestal so easily sometimes. Things can get out of kilter. You might just lose the urge to read books for no reason. But sometimes an event happens in your life that changes your routine or how you feel so much that you find suddenly not much appeals, especially reading. You can’t concentrate on reading, your mind wanders, the book not given the attention it deserves. It’s put down for another time when you can open your mind to its possibilities.

There have been things in my life recently that have changed me profoundly. These changes have included a desperate grief which brought my desire to read to a screaming halt. Nothing could get me to pick up a book for pleasure. I felt I shouldn’t have any pleasure from reading. Experiencing pleasure means you’ve moved on from loss. That would feel like a betrayal, as if I would no long remember or I was disrespecting it. Of course, you never, ever forget. So, I plodded on. Day after day I found some pinpricks of light. Every day and week as time marches on they have become bigger and brighter. I’m sure so many of you have been there too.

When I finally decided that reading was something I could do, in fact needed to do, I searched for a book to read. I knew it had to be a thriller, a book that would grab me.

When an early copy of T J Newman’s latest book landed on my desk, I remembered reading her first book, Falling. It’s a crazy ride of a book. If you’re in a reading rut, it’s the sort of book that can lift you out of it. It’s fast, propulsive reading. Not everyone’s cup of tea, but, as I had powered through Falling, I thought that her latest book, Drowning, to be released in June, might be a salve for me.

Now, T J Newman’s plots are probably not the best for me as they are set on planes. Newman was a flight attendant with many years of experience, dealing with passengers and crew in all sorts of situations. I’m sure she’s seen everything, the very good and the very bad. She must have enjoyed soaring along up in the sky.

But me? I am a fearful flyer. I mean dig-your-fingernails-in type of flyer. You may not want to be sitting next to me on take-off or while cruising at 30 000 feet. There should be special seats for people like me. I’m the sort of flyer on long haul flights who will stare intently at the screen that shows the plane’s trajectory, height and speed. And I’ll do it incessantly just in case we go off track or take a dip. My brow will furrow with distress if people get out of their seats for any reason. The bathroom is out of the question for me, and I think should be for everyone else too.

Flight attendants’ faces are constantly scrutinised for any sign of change. Every bump is possibly a part of the plane dropping off, falling into the abyss. Every noise is imagined as a catastrophe. Is that an engine failing? Are the pilots up front trying to remain calm as they scan checklists and follow procedures to save us all?

Here’s the synopsis for T J Newman’s first book, Falling.

You just boarded a flight to New York.
There are 143 other passengers onboard.
What you don’t know is that 30 minutes before the flight your pilot’s family was kidnapped.
For his family to live, everyone on your plane must die.
The only way the family will survive is if the pilot follows his orders and crashes the plane.
Enjoy the flight.

Then in Drowning Newman takes plane crashes to a new level.

Six minutes after take-off, Flight 1421 crashes into the Pacific Ocean.
During the evacuation, an engine explodes, and the plane is flooded.
Those still alive are forced to close the doors – but it’s too late.
The plane sinks to the bottom with 12 passengers trapped inside.

I think I must be a masochist. What am I doing? Will I ever fly again?

Crazy as I am to read novels that play to some of my deepest fears, it has kickstarted my reading. I’m only a bit of a way into it, but I am hooked. My disbelief is securely suspended and I’m just enjoying the ride for what it is. The phone is put away. No more games or news, or endlessly scrolling ridiculous feeds of social posts, brainless images or videos.

Grief brings with it repetitive ups and downs. There is no way around it, you must sail your ship right through it, accepting the buffeting of the gale force winds that threaten to tear you asunder, only to suddenly realise a gentle calm has settled over you.

I think my ship has sailed through its worst. I know there will be intermittent headwinds for some time to come, but there will also be longer stretches of calm on the horizon. That’s enough for now.

In the meantime, thank you T J Newman. I’m grateful to be once again enjoying the greatest of pleasures, reading.

Rowena

BOOKS THAT’LL KEEP YOU READING INTO THE NIGHT

Woman in the Window by A J Finn
The Island by Adrian McGinty
The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins
Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn
The Couple Next Door by Shari Lapena
The Wife Between Us by Greer Hendriks & Sarah Pekkanen
Misery by Stephen King
The Silent Patient by Alex Michaelides
Strangers on a Train by Patricia Highsmith
Shutter Island by Dennis Lehane