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.
1 comment:
Not all reading has to be high brow. About once a year, I give into a bodice-ripper romance novel. Similarly, I read about one detective book a year. It's a nice vacation.
I'd only be concerned if we turned into some of those chicks I've seen at the used book stores who buy romance and mysteries by the paper grocery bag. That'd be like watching reality TV and talk shows all day long, to my mind. Frightening concepts, both.
Post a Comment