I’m entering my yearly literary petulant phase. Nothing sounds good, nothing is compelling. I’m judging all my reading matter by its covers and everything is wanting. Even traffic signs, menus, and pay checks. Especially pay checks.
I was grumbling over my predicament with my pal over at the Kansas City Star, John Mark. He’s having the same problem. JM is waiting for all the good stuff to get published in the fall. I’m just moping around looking for something, ANYTHING, to read!
But nothing is appealing. I picked up a romance and sneered at the loving couple. I leafed through an urban fantasy and wondered why I couldn’t find any magic at the local bus stop. I skimmed a gritty noir mystery and yawned. The killer wasn’t doing anything I hadn’t seen/read/sliced/hacked before. I pounced on a funny memoir and questioned the depth of the author’s comedy. Couldn’t muster enough interest to care about the veracity of the life story.
What is WRONG with me? I can’t find anything to hold my interest. It’s time to break out one of my childhood favorites. I need to go on a looooonnnnnnnnnnnggggg reading trip. Perhaps a Voyage of the Bassett is in order?
How do you all break out of your reading doldrums?