Making The Same Mistakes Again...

I put down a book two days ago.  Actually, I dropped it on accident and it landed on the floor, the book mark came out, and I haven't bothered to pick up the book since.  I don't know why this is so hard for me to admit to myself and then act upon, but I just can't read high fantasy like I used to when I was a kid.  I know this to be true, through and through, and yet I have to periodically reaffirm this assertion which has already been proven.  I want to but I can't.  I need to get my fix with cheap TV and "B" movies: they serve to hit me up with my dose of guilty pleasure, are just as painful, and are completed in a much much shorter time.

I do not think that my reading hiatus had anything to do with the book I was reading at the time that I went on break; it was merely coincidence that it happened to be fantasy.  I was loving every part of the story; I don't think there was anything bad with the book; but something about 500 pages of 700 and three more books to go to finish the story just overwhelmed me to the point of running away despite my good intentions and enjoyment.

I can't do fantasy of this kind, and I'm vowing to never attempt to do so again.

I'm going to read Inkdeath and finish that series at some point in time.  Not because I'm a completionist but for whatever reason that series has stuck with me.  So long as the narrative doesn't prove too stiff, I'll keep at the Earthsea series.  Other than that, I'll have to keep the fantasy novels I read to the contemporary kind: more Lev and Austin Grossman than Tad Williams; not because I feel one writer is better than another rather I just can't do the latter.

Fantasy short stories I can do because they usually have a more pointed and concentrated story to tell than the expansive stuff that makes me cringe.  

I'm reading again, and I even seem to be blogging again, but don't expect too much fantasy commentary.

New Year's Reading Resolution

This post is Maria's fault…  She called me out.  NO!  Of course I had no plans on sharing this list: that's why I left it out!  But, here it is; I'm doing it for the fans.  A concrete, documented list to point at should I fail.  (All jokes of course Maria; kinda.  Not really.)

On average I get through 45-50 books in a year.  My goal for 2014 will be to make sure that in addition to any other reading that the following ten books are read (or at least attempted).  They have been hanging around for too long, and I've been actively avoiding some of them.

In no particular order:

The Savage Detectives by Roberto Bolano.  I know nothing about this book; which is exactly how I like to start reading a novel.

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay by Michael Chabon.  I think Chabon may be my favorite living author and yet I haven't read his magnum opus.  I should be excited but for some reason I'm apprehensive about starting this.

The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz.  I know nothing about this book other than the fact that Diaz with lots of awards and publishes very little.

Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel.  The press loves this book and Mantel.  I've never talked to a real person who read it and enjoyed--or hell, even got through it--or even another blogger for that matter.  I'm ear-marking this to be one I start reading and end up putting down.  Six-hundred pages of English history sounds like a tall order for anyone to write compelling fiction about.

The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco.  This one I'm looking forward to.  It may be the first on the list I read.

Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez.  I love his short stories.  I know nothing about this novel.

The Magus by John Fowles.  Possibly my favorite deceased author.  Seriously looking forward to it but daunted by the size.

The Angel's Game by Carlos Ruiz Zafon.  I don't know why, but despite liking The Shadow of the Wind this book has a 'reader repellent' on it.  Every time I get close to picking it up something pushes me away.

The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters.  I know nothing about this book.

The Brooklyn Follies by Paul Auster.  A phenomenal writer who happens to wear me out.

So, those are my ten.  Read any of them?  Do I have some good stuff ahead of me?  Some fail?  Anyone wanna join in and read along as to keep me motivated?