I fear I am in a literary slump. Currently I have several books on the go: Young Stalin by Simon Sebag Montefiore, I'm Not the New Me by Wendy McClure, The Tales of Beedle the Bard by oh, you know, and Don Quixote.
Two nights ago, tired of all of these books, I picked up Gina Showalter's The Darkest Night, the first in a trilogy of ancient Greek warriors cursed with the personified demons of Death, Violence, Pain, Lust, and I can't remember the last one, but I'm sure it's a doozy.
Yeah, I know.
Sometimes you just need fluff, though. I have been pushing myself so hard to read so many diverse things, that I just snapped. I haven't touched a library book in days, and I haven't so much as sniffed at the challenge list that I created for myself in December, apart from the half-hearted attempt at Montefiore's tome.
I don't know what it is, but I'm kinda read out.
Do you ever get that way? Do you ever push yourself so hard to read so much that you need to step back for a minute and rest your eyes? I do. Perhaps that's why I read so many books at once; I need to have a variety of books in order to match the mood I am in.
I don't apologize for liking fluff. And no one should have to. Genre fiction, trashy books, whatever you call it—sometimes they are the best remedy you can ask for.
I expect I'll get my mojo back soon enough. It's not like I've stopped reading entirely. The Darkest Night is half through already and The Darkest Kiss is waiting on my shelf, next in line!
Photo source: tabrandt
1 comment:
After reading nine books in January, I think my eyeballs are going to fall out. I'm pooped. So I know what you mean.
Not sure what the cure is. I tried watching a movie for entertainment instead, but so far that hasn't done it for me.
Now I'm trying an audiobook. So far it just puts me to sleep.
I'll try the fluff approach next, although to be completely honest 50% of what burned out my eyeballs this month to begin with was fluff, ha.
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