kfan:
Also, knowing that I’m publicising my reading list also keeps me away from complete dreck. Because what would I write after reading it?
And about a public reading list keeping you from reading complete dreck, that’s a bunch of crap, and that way lies the False Cult of the Guilty Pleasure. Enjoy what you want to enjoy, irrespective of what Harold Bloom or Pitchfork or the girl in your English class (with the softest hair ever but who doesn’t even know you exist but maybe if she spotted you reading that book she loves she would suddenly notice you and have to kiss you) say.
Massively concerned with what that girl in class sees me reading but also perversely inclined to hide the book cover from her, especially if it’s something cool or respectable.
Maybe this is a balance that comes with age, or something, but if I followed the route of least resistance to enjoying myself I’d probably spend all my days lying on my bed surrounded by American sitcoms and spent tissues.
It’s not just about what’s enjoyable. It’s also about what’s good for you. And sometimes a guy like me needs Harold Bloom to tell him what’s good for him.
Maybe it’s because unlike everyone I have this argument with, I never studied literature at university. I spent 4 years learning compiler theory and trying to ignore where I was. I feel like I’m playing catchup. I may always feel that way. But I was being facetious. It’s not so much about other people’s image of me as it is about my ridiculous image of myself.
But I was talking about Battlestar Galactica the other day in case no one noticed.