Wednesday, September 26, 2012

How the mighty have fallen.

I've read some serious literature in my time. It was unavoidable since my mom was an literature nut (I wish I could post some of her stories and drawings; when I first saw them it was the first time I remember thinking that my mom wasn't just a mom, she was awesome!). I read Uncle Tom's Cabin, the full version, when I was in fourth grade (I think I was nine or ten). Soon after that I decided to read Don Quixote since it is considered to be the first modern European novel. I can see why people tried to improve upon it (sorry, Grandpa, I know it's one of your favorites).

When I was approaching my twenties I decided to read War and Peace because I thought it would be cool to casually mention that I had read it, since so many non-literary people seemed to be in awe of anyone who had read it. I found out later that many literary types have also read the book, and since I live/work/breath around literary types this feat isn't quite as cool. Oh well. I've also read many other works of literature (my mom was working off a reading list Harvard recommended) and I frequently would wander off into a tangential interest. For example, having read Shakespeare I simply had to read the Greek tragedies and comedies and all about the lives of the men who authored them.

This weekend, however, I spent some time in a field of writing (note I did not say literature) that I had previously avoided: the Harlequin romance. It was free on my Nook and I was bored and not wanting anything serious. My first book (there were a total of five, I think) was not to bad. I think it was called An Inconvenient Duchess. Decent plot, decent writing, not too graphic in the love scenes. The rest went downhill in quality and yet I continued to read them, thinking that surely it must get better. No, no it did not. In one the feisty lady takes over the duel fought in her honor and brings the bad boy who had been trying to label her a slut to his knees. Her action was convenient since her chosen man abhorred firearms and didn't really know how to shoot one. He also didn't like to ride horses, never swore nor indulged in bits of libation. Wonderful, yes?

I think I'm over the Harlequin romance now, fortunately. I'm ready for more serious writing again. Damm has asked me to read On Combat so I'll start to muddle through that.

Happy hump day!