Book Talkin'
Okay, before I get to my topic I just have to shout this from the rafters as the crazy woman that I am....KEITH URBAN WON CMA ENTERTAINER OF THE YEAR FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME!!! Yeeeeee-Haaaaaaaaw! hehehehe (FYI He's only like the best musician ever and looks totally hot and stars in all my daydreams. '-) )
Ahem, now that that's outta my system...hehehehe
So the other day, I was ranting in here about my disappointment in a book and an author who had previously been one of my favorites. After ranting here, I talked to a friend about it because frankly, it still bothered me. Anyone who isn't an "in-the-blood" reader might not understand the level of disappointment but to me it was almost the equivalent of when I found out there wasn't a Santa Clause. I was crushed.
Fortunately, my friend understood completely and in talking to her, I decided not to give up on this author. Over the weekend, I re-read another book by this author. I chose a book I had read many times over the past however many years it's been. Something like 5 or 6 years, I think. This was a book I loved so much when I first read it that I went and purchased my sister a copy of it as well and she loved it. So, I'm reading this book I'd loved for so long but hadn't read in a couple of years and as I'm reading, the further I go the heavier my stomach gets. It's repeating a lot of the same patterns of the one I'd declared I hated! How could this be? I had simply adored this book for years but it was almost a cookie cutter version of the one that shattered my trust in the author. I decided not to finish it, choosing instead to remember it as a book I had loved instead of turning it into a wallbanger.
After I put the book back on the shelf, I sat on the couch and thought about it a while. (Yes, apparently I have too much time on my hands.) I thought about that book and the books I had read over the years and then about the books I had begun reading in the past couple of years. Then I thought about myself and the kind of person I am now and I realized something.
The author hadn't changed or gotten worse...I had changed. Somewhere along the way in the couple of years since I had read that book or any like it, I had gone from someone who believed overbearing men and simpering submissive women was okay to a woman who detests overbearing men and simpering submissive women. No longer am I a weak-ling thinking that it was okay to be run roughshod over but I am a woman who talks back and sasses and refuses to bear the indignity of being treated a lesser person. It shows in the kinds of books I read now as well. I graduated from the standard old fashioned cliched romances and entered the world of chick lit, contemporary romance and yes, even erotic romance. Books with strong female characters with equally strong males but males who are much more honest with their emotions who don't show their love for the heroine by dominating and bullying her but by good old fashioned arguing, fussing and fighting and just being a man. Not a Greek tycoon who fabricates an elaborate story to get the girl to marry him and then systematically wears her down into thinking that winning his love is the only thing that will ever make her happy and that his happiness defines her. No, these characters I read now reflect people of the world. Teachers, ranchers, car mechanics, and football coaches. They have messy lives and complicated issues and many times steamy hot sex.
I simply hadn't realized until now that my reading tastes had changed when I changed. It's kind of a duh, thing, really. I mean, when I was a teenager, I absorbed every Fear Street or Sweet Valley book I could get my hands on along with the old fashioned romances my mama got me started on when I was 12. Now, to sit down and read a Fear Street or Sweet Valley book would likely send me into unheard of spates of giggles and a "what was I thinking?" session. They would seem silly to me now. When I was a teenager, teenage books suited me. When I was an "eyes to the ground, seen and not heard" young woman, submissive heroines and overbearing heroes suited me. Now I'm a woman in progress who thinks for herself and chafes at the idea of anyone else owning my life, I read books with strong heroines and regular Joes.
It's a relief, really, to understand this now. I can place that author's on my shelf and look at them with nostalgia and remember them fondly for their place in the history of my life and know that that author can still be considered one of my favorites...just, one of my old favorites.
Ahem, now that that's outta my system...hehehehe
So the other day, I was ranting in here about my disappointment in a book and an author who had previously been one of my favorites. After ranting here, I talked to a friend about it because frankly, it still bothered me. Anyone who isn't an "in-the-blood" reader might not understand the level of disappointment but to me it was almost the equivalent of when I found out there wasn't a Santa Clause. I was crushed.
Fortunately, my friend understood completely and in talking to her, I decided not to give up on this author. Over the weekend, I re-read another book by this author. I chose a book I had read many times over the past however many years it's been. Something like 5 or 6 years, I think. This was a book I loved so much when I first read it that I went and purchased my sister a copy of it as well and she loved it. So, I'm reading this book I'd loved for so long but hadn't read in a couple of years and as I'm reading, the further I go the heavier my stomach gets. It's repeating a lot of the same patterns of the one I'd declared I hated! How could this be? I had simply adored this book for years but it was almost a cookie cutter version of the one that shattered my trust in the author. I decided not to finish it, choosing instead to remember it as a book I had loved instead of turning it into a wallbanger.
After I put the book back on the shelf, I sat on the couch and thought about it a while. (Yes, apparently I have too much time on my hands.) I thought about that book and the books I had read over the years and then about the books I had begun reading in the past couple of years. Then I thought about myself and the kind of person I am now and I realized something.
The author hadn't changed or gotten worse...I had changed. Somewhere along the way in the couple of years since I had read that book or any like it, I had gone from someone who believed overbearing men and simpering submissive women was okay to a woman who detests overbearing men and simpering submissive women. No longer am I a weak-ling thinking that it was okay to be run roughshod over but I am a woman who talks back and sasses and refuses to bear the indignity of being treated a lesser person. It shows in the kinds of books I read now as well. I graduated from the standard old fashioned cliched romances and entered the world of chick lit, contemporary romance and yes, even erotic romance. Books with strong female characters with equally strong males but males who are much more honest with their emotions who don't show their love for the heroine by dominating and bullying her but by good old fashioned arguing, fussing and fighting and just being a man. Not a Greek tycoon who fabricates an elaborate story to get the girl to marry him and then systematically wears her down into thinking that winning his love is the only thing that will ever make her happy and that his happiness defines her. No, these characters I read now reflect people of the world. Teachers, ranchers, car mechanics, and football coaches. They have messy lives and complicated issues and many times steamy hot sex.
I simply hadn't realized until now that my reading tastes had changed when I changed. It's kind of a duh, thing, really. I mean, when I was a teenager, I absorbed every Fear Street or Sweet Valley book I could get my hands on along with the old fashioned romances my mama got me started on when I was 12. Now, to sit down and read a Fear Street or Sweet Valley book would likely send me into unheard of spates of giggles and a "what was I thinking?" session. They would seem silly to me now. When I was a teenager, teenage books suited me. When I was an "eyes to the ground, seen and not heard" young woman, submissive heroines and overbearing heroes suited me. Now I'm a woman in progress who thinks for herself and chafes at the idea of anyone else owning my life, I read books with strong heroines and regular Joes.
It's a relief, really, to understand this now. I can place that author's on my shelf and look at them with nostalgia and remember them fondly for their place in the history of my life and know that that author can still be considered one of my favorites...just, one of my old favorites.
Comments
I probably could have done a bit better but I was still so razzed about Keith Urban. lol I'm not obsessing on him, just super appreciative. ;-)