This weekend, I read: King Lear by Shakespeare, and Forfeit, by Dick Francis. Guess which one I enjoyed more? If you said Shakespeare, you were way way off. I love Shakespeare, generally, but Lear is one of my least favorite plays, I think because I really don't like anyone but Cordelia, and she doesn't do or say much. I think I have read almost every single Dick Francis, and enjoyed every one. Can't name a single character, the plots are often interchangeable, and they deal with horse racing, which I know very little about. But they are a fun read.
There are books that I think I ought to like, or ought to have read, because they are considered classics. Literature with a capital L. And then there are things I absolutely should NOT enjoy, like comic books, that I thoroughly do. As I get older, I get more comfortable with the thought that I am not as sophisticated as I once thought I was. My tastes are just what they are -- and sometimes that means I am shallow, superficial or just plain brain dead.