I love books that can evoke the feelings of a season. For example, The Go-Between, with it’s portrayal of one glorious summer, or Wind In The Willows, with it’s perfect descriptions of a lazy spring day, or a chill winter evening. I think one of the reasons I like the Famous Five books so much is they make me feel like I’m in one long hot endless beautiful summer. In fact, I just bought a book based solely on the fact it supposed to evoke a long ago hot summer. (Month in the Country by J Carr, and it did, and I enjoyed it)
The weather is important in books, I think. It can be a reflection of a characters mood, or a sign of the plot. Thunderstorms are always a good indicator of things going wrong. It can move the plot along. In Persuasion, the rain in Bath is constantly causing meetings as people shelter.
Besides, I love the feeling. It’s wonderful, on a miserable damp day, to open a book and be sent back to summer, and warmth and sunshine.
It’s more than a case of saying ‘it was hot’. Describing a season needs beautiful prose, poetic prose that stirs the feelings. And it’s not just the weather that needs describing, but the way people react to it, the things they do, the clothes they wear, the work they do, even the scent of the air – all of these are defined by season, especially in the countryside.
It’s summer here now. But I know if I read the right book ( let’s say, Christmas Carol), I could feel a cold winter breeze. And when it’s winter, I’ll dig out all those summer books. I love a season in a book.