I have this problem of looking up lists of novels on the internet and seeing how many of them I have read. I've only lately realized that this is not god for my psyche. Looking at the unofficial hundred after hundred of established books makes my head swirl thinking about the ones I haven't read. Then I look at my shelf, see the recently devoured titles that are not on the lists and think, "why did I waste my time?"
Then I slap myself.
Well, not really. I'm not one for pain. But I do feel ashamed of my easily persuaded self. Most of my favourtie pieces I've ever read are never on these lists. The infamously hated Jeannette Winterson is too cocky to be on these lists and I don't even bother to check if my favourite Canadian authors are on them. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I try too hard sometimes to read what everyone else is reading, only to find that I've turned my back on some dear literary friends.
While I do like to read, make and follow lists, I like to enjoy what I read much more. So I'll follow these lists while leaving room for impulse reads and authors who are dear to my heart.
No comments:
Post a Comment