Perhaps it's the spring... that dawning of a new phase of life, or both, but I have been quitting on novels with reckless abandon lately.
While that feels freeing, it also feels like a great waste of time.
I enjoy watching bookish content, and following book prizes (even if I don't read most of the long/short listed novels). I know that this consumption of others' opinions can make one grow more distant from their own internal taste.
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always a good time for austen |
I love deeply moving character narratives. I believe that it has been a long time since authors were collectively capable of writing deeply moving character portrayals AND exciting plots (see Thomas Hardy, James Baldwin, Zora Neale Hurston).
Now, it's either navel-gazey meanderings which give zero insight into the human experience, or they are formulaic wastes of time that leave me rolling my eyes, guessing every next plot point, and feeling manipulated by it all.
This not me saying one single bad thing about authors or those who love traditionally published genre fiction. I also find myself enjoying some of these novels, but not often enough. I believe the issue is that I keep watching people enjoy these books, and someone I think that if I keep trying them, I'll enjoy them. That hasn't been the case.
As I've gone back to school, I have had to make other trade offs when it comes to extraneous reading. This makes me interested ONLY in deeply moving 5 star reads. Even when I thought I would read a light romance novel, I dnfed it within 55 pages.
It's okay... I'm organizing my "free" reads in the meantime to keep up with making time to read well.
I am off to create my literary plate, and organize my kindle into collection so that when I am ready to read a few pages from each book, they can all be in the same place.
Great literature wins again.