I have long been a non-fiction reader. Well, when I was a child I enjoyed fiction but it consisted mostly of Encyclopedia Brown and Nancy Drew. As I aged I found less and less pleasure in fiction, and more pleasure in reading about science, climate change, sociology, psychology, things of that nature. If I did read fiction, it had to be high quality fiction that is at least 100 years old, essentially. This meant, despite my mediocre attempts, I rarely finished a book. I have picked up and read the first quarter of Uncle Tom's Cabin at least two times. So recently, partially due to the trend set by my girlfriend and partly due to the fact that I do spend an entire week with just one person (filled with much time for reading after the end of the work day), and partly due to the fact that I went home a month ago and my mom handed me nearly 30 books, I have begun a fiction crusade. So far I have 5 books under my belt. The first series I read was, well.... the characters were far too rash and outrageous to be believable (which is my main gripe with fiction, not believing the characters or the plot) but it made me laugh. I just finished last night a book by a new author, this one set in 1890s England with a head-strong and independent woman who moves to help out her aunt. There is some mystery, but I feel like it isn't actually the main focus of the book (it is the main plot-driver, though)... it is more focused on this womans experiences and the interactions she has with the other characters, about her unusual independence. Plus, there are definite draws between the book and Pride and Prejudice. And while it is far from a replication, I always appreciate some P&P qualities in a book.
Yes, I am enjoying this new route of fiction books, although I can feel myself needing to satiate my ever-present-non-fiction-devouring mind.
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