Infidelity, Books, and My "Type"

I have a confession.

I haven't finished reading a single book in a little over a month.

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Yeah, I'm not proud. I'm not sure whether it's my choices of books or just a shortening attention span, but I've been dropping the poor babies almost as quickly as I'm picking them up. The three most recent victims of my reading infidelity this month:

• Élizabeth: les amours de la reine vierge, by Jean-Louis Morgan
• David Copperfield, by Charles Dickens
• Newsonomics, by Ken Doctor

There doesn't seem to be any relationship between the three... Élizabeth is a french romantic historical novel, David Copperfield a classic, and Newsonomics an analytical nonfiction read... none of which I would usually go for.

None of which I would usually go for.

None of which I would usually go for.

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I never wanted to be someone who only read one type of book. It was good to have a favourite genre, but I don't think it's good to read only in that genre; that limits you in so many ways, not only in reading but also when you begin to write yourself. It could be likened to having a "type" for guys... why would you limit yourself to one type when you don't know what the other types are like? Wouldn't it be better to get to know the individual guys first?

It's been a few years coming, but I guess I've been falling into one of those ruts. Romance, fantasy, young adult... totally up my alley. Anything else... I'll just pretend I didn't see you on the shelf.

But how do I get about fixing this? This month has been testament to the fact that whenever I try to venture outside my comfort zone, infidelity happens... 

I wish I could end this blog entry normally, but I really don't have an answer... at least not yet. Let's just hope infidelity gets boring after awhile.