I think one of the most difficult tasks I do on a semi-regular basis is pick out a book at the bookstore.
It takes several hours at least to finish a good sized book, so picking out a book isn’t a commitment to be taken lightly. Plus since I only have time to finish a few books each year, I don’t want to miss out on a book that I would really, truly love, that I would cherish forever and that might change my view of the world, just because I spent the time reading something that was just - meh, whatever…
Therefore I want every new book I purchase to be just the right book.
It should have drama and depth so it keeps me absorbed, but not be too depressing or heavy so I dread picking it up again each time I take a break. I want it to have clever language and characters that are interesting and multi-dimensional, like the critically acclaimed stuff in the “literature” aisles. Unfortunately, I also like the escapism of stories that are at least a bit fantastical - although I’m bored out of my mind with the same old poorly written retreads of Tolkien that you find in the fantasy and science fiction aisles.
In the past I’ve found a handful of authors that have met all my criteria for both literary quality and entertaining escapism (Jonathan Stroud, Gregory Maguire, Neil Gaiman, to name a few of my favorites), but it seems like the best authors only write one or two books a year at most, and waiting for their next work can be excruciating. George R.R. Martin has only completed 4 books in his extremely well written (and huge) fantasy epic in the last 12 years. In other words, I’ve spent a fourth of my life waiting for him to finish one damn story!
Then there are the authors that I fell in love with that have for one reason or another broken my heart. Phillip Pullman wrote one of the best fantasy trilogies ever (”The Golden Compass”, etc) then seemed to drop off the face of the Earth; Douglas Adams died right when he was finding a voice beyond his “Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy” series; and Stephen King just plain got bad. Not to mention the authors that I liked well enough at the time, but I got kind of bored with what they had to say - like just about any author in the science fiction genre (I started on that aisle in the bookstore when I was around 11 years old, and after a decade or two I’d pretty much been there, done that).
So every so often I make a pilgrimage to my nearby Barnes and Noble, hoping to find my next literary guru to follow. Sometimes I’ll expand my horizons a bit beyond my usual fare and find something surprisingly enjoyable - like the entertaining and surprisingly clever office novel “Then We Came to the End” by Joshua Ferris, or Diablo Cody’s funny and gritty book “Candy Girl” about the year she spent as a stripper before she wrote the Oscar winning screenplay for “Juno.” And sometimes I get overly ambitious and pick up something I doubt I will ever finish (does anyone actually read an entire book by William Faulkner - and if so, why did you put yourself through that much misery?).
Sure, picking out books is an individual journey of discovery full of twists and unexpected surprises, unique to you and no one else - but what I wouldn’t give to have just one damn shelf in the bookstore labeled “Hey You, in the khaki shorts and the juggling t-shirt. Yeah, you - the guy who looks overwhelmed and kind of lost. These are the books you want. Just start at the left end and work your way to the right.”
Damn, now that would be sweet.