What I am running into is a ton of nonfiction, exploring demographic reversal, instructions on "how to be gay", the study of the counterculture of narcissism and a sweeping cultural history of the ideal of sincerity.
What the H is wrong with me?
I could not care less about the pedagogy of the democratic party and why it is the same as yesteryear's republicans. I don't care how Islamic law evolved and I sure as H don't want to know how 1919 brought bloodshed, riots and municipal crises in Chicago.
What do I want to read? Fiction. Classics. Love stories. Chick lit. Mysteries. I don't feel that I am limiting myself at all with this list. There must be hundreds of books published weekly that meet this criteria.
However, the book critics that I have been able to find are NOT reading it. I guess it's too prosaic for them. Perhaps it's too lowbrow.
I saw an interesting article addressing whether or not we even need professional critics in this day of blogging. Jessa Crispin, editor-in-chief of Bookslut (really? seriously? There was NO other moniker available?) thinks the age of the professional critic has come to an end. Critics can only review so much, but online bloggers seem to be able to review everything.
Thank goodness. Because I am barking up the wrong tree to fatten my TBR!