If you regularly read my blog posts, you’ve probably noticed that I don’t really dabble in realistic fiction. I don’t focus this blog on fiction with people and events that could conceivably happen. I’ve passed over some great books simply because there wasn’t an element of magic, sci-fi, or horror. I don’t even like mystery books if they involve realistic events. I’ll only read a book without a supernatural or futuristic aspect to it if it’s historical fiction, which I love.
I guess when I really think about it, I just don’t like reading about reality.
I’ve got nothing against real life, but it can be so boring at times. I wake up, eat breakfast, go to work, come home, hang out for a few hours, and then go to bed. Why on earth would I want to read a book that reminds me of that routine? If I’m reading a book that takes place in the 21st century United States, I’m always thinking in the back of my head, “Do I really want to spend my free time reading about something I can actually experience?”
I’m not saying realistic fiction is crap because it’s not. I’m just saying it doesn’t appeal to me at all. I’ve always been the type of person who looks for an escape. When I’m stressed out, I don’t want to read a book that reminds me of my reality. I want to be taken as far away from my reality as possible. I’d rather think about the adventures of the dragonriders of Pern (Anne McCaffrey. Look her up!) than think about my long day at work. I’d rather read about a witch’s struggles with her vampire husband (All Souls Trilogy) than think about my own relationship status.
Magic, futuristic technology, outer space, supernatural horror, and dystopian societies are so much more fun to read about. I just don’t think I’ll ever be the type of person who enjoys reading a book where ever single event could actually happen.
Word Addict 