I’ve made no secret on this blog of my love for physical books, how the story inside is often inextricably linked with where I read it, the state of the cover or the position I finally award it on my bookshelves. And yes, I’ll use any excuse to post pictures of my book shelves.
I’ve not yet posted pictures of the books I’ve read while this blog was on hiatus for several reasons, one being that I didn’t read much romance for a while, and another being that I’ve been reading more e-books – and having no e-reader I haven’t been able to take nice pictures of the covers as I have in recent years.
I have been reading romances since my teens, they date from the heyday of 80s excess (including big name bonkbusters) through the arrival of dual pov category romances and the proliferation of ever tightly defined subgenres – small town, family focused, romantic suspense, procedurals, inspirational, explicit and so on. I like to think I’ll read any romance and sometimes furrow my brow when readers claim they won’t read outside of their comfort zone, or find certain situations or protagonists “hard to relate to” (and yes, alas, I’m aware that that’s often code for “I won’t read books where the protagonists, or author, aren’t white”).
I certainly hope I’m not that blinkered (and I know that white privilege confers many unacknowledged biases) but I’m aware that almost all my romances have been from one publisher – Harlequin, and it’s many linked houses like Mills and Boon, HQN, the old Silhouette lines, eHarl, and Carina. I’ve bought recommended books from small publishers, and self-published authors, although I admit I was slow here due to the lack of a hand held reader and I get hot thighs when reading on my laptop – not an innuendo for once, or a comment on the books I read (although I know there are people who claim people only use e-readers to hide the covers of the books they are reading.)
I’ve no time for anyone policing someone else’s reading tastes, and I’ve also been saddened by the snobbery (to take a charitable view) against e-books. I hope I’ve been clear in previous posts that part of my love of my bookshelves and their contents is because I’m a very slow reader and because of how I picture each page as if in a film – well lucky old me, not everyone has that luxury of time, nor wants it. For those who read voraciously, the ease and friendliness of having your entire library at your fingertips and in your bag or pocket night and day is invaluable; never mind the ableist attitude of saying everyone should be able to hold a cumbersome book open for hours and strain their eyesight over unalterable, unilluminated, tiny text.
So yes, I confess that I am a creature of habit in my reading choices and each time I break out it’s usually with delight – as a reader – and horror – for my bank account. There’s also the effect it has on my writing. Having so long read (almost exclusively) romantic suspense, I’ve been reading more contemporary and historical romances and envying the skill of those who keep the reader breathless without cliff-hangers and danger. And every time I read an erotic romance I go back to ideas I’ve had percolating for years and wonder if I should try those again…of course after a rejection that is a double temptation “I suck at this, let’s try that” or “ok, I’ll write something explicitly for this line following their wish lists more than my own inclinations” neither of which is necessarily the greatest reason for choosing a project. But the better and more varied my reading choices, the more inspired I get and I hurry back to my own stories and my own voice; contemporary romance, heavy on the suspense.
And meanwhile, I’ll still be posting pictures of my bookcases, and pictures like the one above when it’s nice enough to read outdoors, but there will also be dusty pictures like this one.
These books may not be on my bookshelves, but I loved living every minute of them.