Recently one of my book groups had its annual nomination night. Each member brings four or five books to recommend, everyone gushes about their books and then we vote. It’s always a fun evening and undoubtedly I end up adding more books to my “to-be-read” list after hearing all the book descriptions.
I always have fun nominating books but this time I was really stuck. I couldn’t come up with some good selections. I should point out that this group is known for reading Coetzee, Ishiguro, Murakami, Atwood, Byatt, in other words, no bestsellers or Oprah books for this crowd. We only read foreign authors and it’s usually authors who have won major awards. Okay we are book snobs.
I went through my list of books I’ve read all year (yes, I keep such a list – yes, I’m a book nerd) and I was floored. It seems that this year I’ve read lots of bestsellers, mysteries, and even the dreaded Red Dress Ink books. What’s going on with me?
Well, it’s been a year-long case of reading for escapism that’s what it’s been. Whenever I feel stressed out or if I have too much going on in my life then all I want to read is fluff. I want comfort books and that’s that.
I don’t regret my comfort reading because a lot of them have been fun, but now I’m seriously craving more substance. Especially, after seeing this list and realizing I have not read a single book on it.
So let’s see what I pick up next time I’m at the library or the bookstore. I’ll try not to glance in the direction of the mystery section but I’m not making any promises.