Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. For the seventeenth time.
The problem is that I just don’t read very much. It’s shameful how seldom I read, and even more shameful what I read (and don’t read). There are about two dozen novels and a couple works of non-fiction that I crack open on the rare occasions when I feel like reading. I read something new when/if a novel by a fellow self-published author is in need of an honest review, and even that isn’t done nearly as often as it should be.
I’m working on it, endeavoring to read and review at least one new, self-published novel every month. Don’t laugh, that’s a lot for me!
I’m also pretty comfortable with my laziness. I’ve read reviews written by people who clearly don’t enjoy reading, and in my infinite wisdom, I’ve diagnosed them with novel fatigue. (Like oxymorons? Me too.)
There are some people who seem to derive little to no pleasure from reading a book. You know who I’m talking about. By the end of page one, they want to know who the bad guy is, who the good guy is, and why the fuck they should care. They want a conclusion in 50,000 or fewer words. They don’t want to waste their time reading about Tom Bombadil’s beautiful wife, or Frank Bryce’s trouble with the law, or Monica Figuerola’s workout routine.
But reading is a waste of time. I don’t mean it’s pointless. I mean it’s something you should do because you want to, because you either have the time or make the time. Not because you feel extrinsically obligated to read 1,000 books this year.
If reading is your job, I’m genuinely sorry. That must suck.
When Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows came out, I was working part time and in college full time. I read at least one chapter while driving to work. When I say I couldn’t put it down, I mean I risked my very life to read it. That was horribly irresponsible, but it also illustrates the kind of reader for whom I write.
You take your time. You pause and go back if you sense you’ve missed something. You dog-ear pages. You want to see maps. You re-read books. Chores are chores, and reading is reading.
So, in my limited spare time, I have chosen to go back through the Millennium Trilogy (done!) and now the Harry Potter books. I’ll shoehorn in new, self-published books, too; but I’m willing to fail in my quest to review one per month if it starts feeling even a little bit like cleaning out the kitty litter box, because my fellow authors deserve better.
– AK