It’s been a while since my last confession.
I have to start by saying this, reading has been my best coping mechanism since the pandemic hit. It has been a godsend, a fantastic way to temporarily forget how the world seems to be burning around us lately.
At the start of the year, I set my reading challenge at 24 books. That might sound like a lot but I had a decent line of thinking.
You see, the year before my goal was to read 12, my intention to read at least one book a month. Having beaten that, my new goal was two books a month meaning 24 in total.
At the time of writing, I have read 34 books. I didn’t consider that an option at the start of the year but like everyone else, I found myself with a lot of free time this year.
On top of this, I took part in the Reading Glasses reading challenge. For the most part, I enjoyed it, but one item on the list was a chore and a half for me. Read a romance book.
I hate romance books. Until this year I never finished one because I hated how sappy, predictable and boring there were. I read one to completion, and frankly, it only helped cement my distaste for romance.
I know that it is a popular genre so clearly, other bookworms get a kick out of them, I am simply not one of them. Give me Scifi and Fantasy any day over this. Or even horror or non-fiction, anything but romance.
Fellow readers, do you have a checklist of sorts for determining how much you enjoy a book? It might just be me, but I have a mental list, one of these items is if a book can elicit a verbal reaction. Namely laughs and gasps.
Another is if it can make me cry, although this is a lot easier than it sounds since I burst into tears at the slightest provocation.
While I read a lot, I don’t remember every book vividly. I had to check my GoodReads list to double-check what I have read this year. Every year, there is only a handful that sticks with me.
Trust me, you will know if I love a book because I become a preacher for it or the series whenever anyone asks for recommendations. Once I start ranting about a book, there is little that can stop me. My poor family and friends can testify to that.
In fairness, most readers have a shelf or two of beloved titles. Mention one and they will get on their soapbox.
Speaking of soapboxes, I think it’s time I get off mine. I hope you enjoyed this confessional! Let me know if you have any bookish confessions of your own you are willing to share!