This may seem like a book review type of post. It’s not. I’m not giving my suggestions on what to read or how to read them. Nope.
This is my experience while reading.
Sounds odd, eh? Maybe. I like a story that grips me. One that makes me not want to put the book down…or the kindle down. Most often, I find those stories. I like to think I’m lucky, but it could be I’m savvy about what I want to read. I’m by no means a book snob. I’m willing to read a wide range of books. My favorite genres are music history, biographies and autobiographies, history, legal thrillers and romance – the hotter the better. Gotta read in the genre you write in, right? I think so.
Anyway, I happened to be reading this book for my book club and it’s not a story I’d have picked up. It was contemporary fiction. This wasn’t an easy read. That doesn’t mean it was bad. It just wasn’t a breezy type of story. I had to go back and reread more than a few times. But that’s not what this post is about.
The post is about the uncomfortableness of reading. I bet you’re wondering what I mean. I’m the type of reader who doesn’t mind if the hero dies (unless I’m very invested in him), but don’t you dare kill off/do a mischief to the dog/cat/cow/pet/etc. I don’t want to read about dead animals or dead little kids. Sorry. Those are my definite nos. I have a couple of other squick points (Things I won’t read), but those are the biggies.
So onto the book I just read. There were two squick points – one involving germs and things going in the mouth that shouldn’t and one involving nursing. I don’t mean the profession. I mean the act of feeding one’s young. Like I said, it made me uncomfortable. I understand why these devices were used to tell the story and on one hand, I could buy in. On the other, it was too gross IMHO. I kept having to stop and go back.
That said, the squick points stuck with me. I remember the story like I just read it. Of course I did just read it, but I not only got emotionally involved in the book and can’t get those moments out of my head.
Then there’s another book…this one was so gripping and vivid it felt real. Like a dream that wasn’t quite a dream. You know those… the dream is so realistic that you’re not sure if it was real when you wake up, but you KNOW you were dreaming? That was this other book. Two really. I got so emotionally involved in them and could’ve sworn I was one of the players. Okay, I know they were just books, but when you actually dream about a story that’s not yours…that’s heavy stuff.
Is this normal? Have you ever had that? Something was so disturbing that it stuck around in your mind? Or you got so emotionally involved in the book that it felt real? I’d love to know about. Tell me! I’m waiting.