I find myself constantly on the hunt for new things to read, but often disappointed by my choices. They are too long, or too cheesy. They make me feel stupid because I don't get them, or appalled that so many people like what I can only see as tasteless drivel.
Occasionally, I find something that is good, and satisfying, that I will willingly recommend to others.
Even rarer than that are the books that seem to have been written just for me. I can rarely tell you why I selected that particular book, what one thing in all of my browsing made it stand out, but they find their way to me, thankfully.
Usually these titles are a bit off the beaten path, a bit quirky, and no one I know has heard of them, much less read them. As a result, I am often hesitant to recommend them to other readers. I worry that they won't like it for one reason or another, and by rejecting a book I cherish, it feels like they are rejecting a part of me.
I've come to realize though, that in all of the books that my friends have recommended over the years, very few have ever struck home. One friend's choices often leave me bewildered, feeling like somewhere along the way I missed a key something in my education or life experience that would unlock this book's mysteries. Another friend can always excuse bad writing if there is a good plot, but when I read their choices I want to throw the book against a wall. However, this doesn't diminish my thoughts and feelings about my friends in any way. Because one loves literature and one loves pulp doesn't affect the friends that they are to me.
To paraphrase High Fidelity, it's not what you like, but what you are like that counts.
So, as part of this journey to a renewed, braver, me, I am going to start reviewing the things I read on this blog, including my newest find, which spoke so directly to me, I felt like the author was making inside jokes with me as if we were old friends.
Stay tuned!!
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