I'm in one of my periodic spells of just not being able to find a book I like. Believe me, I've tried. I've tried good books - The Book Thief by Markus Zuzak; and bad books - Big Girl, by Danielle Steel. I started Anne of Ingleside by L.M. Montgomery, because I like the Anne series, but even that's failing me. So what's a reader to do?
This isn't the first time this has happened to me. I've had dry spells before. I don't finish books I don't like, but when the unfinished books start piling up, I'm in trouble. I don't know if it's me, if I'm tired of reading, or if I'm just hitting a bad patch. Probably both.
What makes it so tough is that fiction is my addiction of choice. That might sound like a joke, but it isn't. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have books to escape to. I'm not denying reality. I watch the news and read the paper and keep up on what's going on. And, as you know, what's going on is usually pretty grim. That's why I read, and write, the kind of books I do. I don't need to read about real life. I live it. Let me get away from it once in a while.
When this happens I get leery of trying something new, so I've picked up an old reliable, Rex Stout. I enjoy his Nero Wolfe books, and since I rarely remember the solution to the mystery, I can reread them without much trouble. I haven't picked the best of his titles, but at least they're readable. Hopefully they'll get me through.
I hope this doesn't go on much longer, because it's lousy. If I can't find something good to read, I might have to take drastic action. Since no one seems to be writing a book I want to read, I might just have to write one myself.
