In which I rant

I was afraid, for a while, that I might be losing my love for reading. I used to read right about three books a week. And now, if I try new books, it tends to take me over a week to read one.

Sooo, I was freaking out that maybe my bookishness was seeping out of me! NOOOOOOOO!! I love being a bookworm, what was wrong with me!?  *gurgle of death*

So, I pouted and puzzled and finally came to these conclusions:

1.) I'm still a bookworm, I'm just picky

2.) I merely have no luck when I try to find new books.

See, here's the thing. I grew up on Redwall and... and.... well, mostly Redwall.
But heading into my teens I read things like Lark, Howl's Moving Castle, and The Sherwood Ring. I started on series like Alex Rider, The Chronicles of Chrestomanci, Artemis Fowl, Heist Society, and The Gallagher Girls. I dabbled in higher fantasies like The Riddlemaster of Hed (Which was eeeepic.)

Basically I like clever books. Unique books. Books with flare and exciting happenings. Books that make me laugh, or cry, or both. Books that make me go, "I was not expecting that!"

I NEED BOOKS THAT MAKE ME CARE.

IF I DON'T CARE,

I DON'T FINISH. 

PERIOD.

 (See my Anton Ego coming out?)

And just like that, I figured out why my reading of new books has gone down.

Because, in general. I couldn't care less if the characters laughed or cried, completed their quest, lived or died.

People, if you want me to like a book, you need to make me care. And the run-of-the-mill, angsty teenager with boy problems, or the love triangle, or the same old distopian story over and over and over again is not going to do that, usually. Why? Because every single book on the shelf (minus a few brave exceptions) sound exactly the same. Sure, they can have different stories, the MC can be a different gender, but every writing style sounds the same. It's klunky and boring.

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I like writing style to stand out a bit. Not the same old generic stuff as everyone else's, puh-lease!

It's actually a thing with me now, I'll go to the library and check out a bunch of books that sound really good. I then bring them home, read the first couple chapters, go, "Meh." and return them unfinished, because... well because.... I turn into Sherlock.

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If I'm reading a book, and it's an arduous task for me to turn the page...? I'm done. And I don't mean books like The Lord of the Rings, which are difficult to get through sometimes, (unless you are one of those very lucky people who have a devil of a good time reading high fantasy.) and I don't mean things like history books or theological books. Those are supposed to make you slow down and think a little. I'm talking about the horrible, depressing books that sound brilliant and let you down.

Like Time Snatchers. 

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Doesn't that look great? It's set in the future, it has time travel, it has thievery, it has a weird sort of Steampunkiness to it! What's not to love?

EVERYTHING.

That book could have rocked, but as it was, I struggled mightily to about the mid-way point, until the villain cut off someone's little toe. (yep. The little toe. And he did it while yelling out, "This little piggy." Eh. No.) And right about there I was done. It was too weird, thank you very much. I didn't care! I didn't care that the main character just lost himself a pinky toe. Or that his father figure had done it. It was whatevs. I was bored silly.

So, with a chuckle and a "later, loser." I ditched that book.

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And you want to know the kicker? Whenever I stop a book in the middle... I have absolutely no urge to go back and finish it! What's the deal? I'M SUPPOSED TO BEING DYING TO FINISH! If not dying, at least I should want to a little! But with most books, I can't even remember their names they were so bad. There is nothing that makes me wonder how the book ended. It's beneath me.

I don't care. 

So, after leaving Time Snatchers at the library, I munched an apple and looked at the books that Kat had checked out. There on top, was a purple book. (PURPLE! I LOVE PURPLE! LALALA!) This one was called The Thirteenth Child by Patricia C. Wrede. Book one in a trilogy. "Hmm." I thought. "She's a good author." I told Kat I was reading her book.

It started off a little slow, most of hers do. But then I was like,

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That book was amazing! I loved it! I loved everything about it! I loved that it was set in the Old West, but in a parallel universe, where magic existed. I love the Old West, and I love magic, so it was a double win, right?

I finished that series in less than a week. Three books. Four days. No biggy.

AND THAT! That is when I realized that I am still a bookworm! I'm just a book snob. I expect a lot out of books.

 I love reading, I love everything about reading. I love the feel of books, the smell of books, I like turning pages, and getting sucked into a world that's not mine. It's like flying. (but you know, without the danger of falling. Or dying.)

I just like a higher caliber of writing than what's getting published a lot today.

And that is my story.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to finish The Shadow on The Earth by Owen Francis Dudley. (That is a great book. I enjoy it loads. It is a higher caliber of writing. Hee!)

The end.