Bookish Guilty Pleasures and Other Scandalous Secrets

Since the Lenten season has finally caught up with me (REPENT ALL YE SINNERS) I decided I might as well walk that extra mile and ‘fess up all my naughty bookworm sins.

*minor hyperventilation episode*

Alright, here goes:

(Although most probably, by this time tomorrow I will be regretting this post so bad I might bury myself alive and never type another letter into the blogosphere.)

AS I WAS SAYING.

1.  I USED TO BE A TWIHARD – up until the second book happened. That is not to say that I’d read Twilight and then waited a year to get New Moon and filled all my days in between fangirling excessively. It means that while I was reading Twilight, I shipped Bella and Edward so very physically, with my head intermittently spinning very ludicrous fantasies involving me kidnapping Edward for myself in his Aston Martin (WHAT A RIOT I CAN’T EVEN DRIVE A BIKE) and then when the second book happened (all the four books had already been published by then so there was no time spent hanging on a cliff) I hurt my head a lot because I was busy head-desk-ing. By the time I’d finished Breaking Dawn, I’d decided I was anti-Twilight and would spent the rest of my life spewing acid on the topic. As it so happens, that is not the confession – I was merely setting the scene. Remember when a partial draft of Midnight Sun leaked on the Internet and we all read it? Well, guess how many times this so-called anti-Twihard read it. No? OK, is SIX a decent number? Or how about how many times I wished the whole book would be published soon? Did you know that INFINITY could be a number?
2. Following up on #1, I HATED STEPHANIE MEYER. Please note that I was in the ninth grade when I was going through a phase called BOYS ARE SHIT AND ALL THINGS NOT NICE (I dunno why – no guy had ever done anything to me – I used to be a pretty extreme t(w)een). Then I saw the cover of The Host (ON SALE!!!!!!) and read the blurb and bought it and read it and read it and read it and read it … and kept the fact that I might no longer NOT HATE Meyer a secret till I realized I was being a two-faced bitch.
3. I used to pride myself in the knowledge that I DON’T READ CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE. As people ticked off books they had read, I would mentally scoff at them when I classified them as POOR READING CHOICES or NOT LITERARY ENOUGH. (How much do you already hate me?) Then I discovered The Mediator and Jinx and Airhead by Meg Cabot and attained enlightenment.
4.  I JUDGE BOOKS, THEIR AUTHORS AND THEIR FANBASE. (I wasn’t trumpeting that point; I’m stripping myself bare. Go on, judge me. I basically asked for it.)
5. Despite whatever I say and feel about how erotica is basically literary porn – I enjoy a good SPICY SCENE from time to time. (OH GOD.)
   
6. Hey, genuine doubt: Do you, at any point of time, while in the process of shipping your ship in your head after a good book or a Tumblr post or – y’know – randomly, (un)consciously replace the hero(ine) with yourself? (please say yes, please say yes)
7. … Maybe I should stop.

Book Pride and Prejudice

There is a conversation that happens once a blue moon when I am stuck with another person with no other option than to talk. The following is the remainder of that desperate conversation after we’ve discussed our curriculum vitae.

Me: (suffering through a bout of mental agony trying to think of a topic) So. You read?

The Other Person: Yes! I read more than the average person. What about you?

Me: OHMYGODYES. You must have an idea how hard it is to come across another bookworm, right?

TOP: Absolutely! What kind of books do you read?

Me: I am passing through a realistic YA phase. With some dystopia thrown in for good measure. I completely adore historical fiction and love literary prose (Patrick Ness is KING). I also read enough of adult fiction (I need some social drama for my diet), poetry and of course, classics. That’s off the top of my head. What about you?

Almost this conversation happened when I first met Miss J. Except that she came searching for me asking, “Hey I heard you read?” and her answer to my “What books do you read?” confirmed us book buddies.

But sometimes TOP’s answer throws me.

TOP: Wow. So you must have read Twilight, right? I am such a Twihard. And I completely love Fifty Shades. My favourite author is (insert contemporary romance writer’s name).

Me: Meh.

We all know what they say about books and their covers. In my case, I read the book’s backside blurb only if the cover does alright by me. But I am also guilty of a worse crime.

I judge a person by the book (s)he reads.

The worst part? I don’t even think that badly of all those people who haven’t even come across A Book.

God help any Twihard or Fifty Shades fan who crosses my path – they are guaranteed to get an earful from me. That awful conversation includes a lot of “Yeah? What so great about stalkers and paedophiles?” and “No. Don’t tell me that’s love, it’s called creepy” and “Right. You are a fan of a heroine who turns suicidal because her vampire boyfriend dumped her” and “Do you know that the word ‘stone’ has been used 12 times to describe Edward in Twilight alone?” and “Do not get me started on Fifty Shades”.

Then I come across Rae Carson and a little something she said to disrupt my sleep.

Putting it that way made me feel pretty bad for all those times I handed out patronizing lectures. Rae Carson is one writer in my list of fandoms I am a citizen of, whose series finale did not involve unnecessary character murders and crappy plot. So when she said that, I did lose my sleep over whether or not she’s right.

But think about it. How is being a fan of literary porn justifiable? According to me, a person who loves reading erotica literature isn’t a bookworm – the same way someone who watches a lot of porn isn’t a movie buff. And Twilight. I feel it’s preaching the wrong ‘moral of the story’ disguised with the stuff of eighth grade girls’ dreams. I realize Carson was employing them as mere examples but it’s still pretty hard to not get worked up when people mention them. (Maybe it’s because I matured after reading Twilight and felt scammed. Never tried Fifty Shades, though and never will.) When I come across reviews of books that feature covers with girls and boys in intimate poses with half lidded eyes, I don’t even read the title. I read contemporary romances only when I want to get over a book hangover or just kill time – like getting drunk and strip dancing (not that I would know anything about it). I also realize my YA favourites are looked down upon by some literary snobs (whose choices sometimes bore me to death) but I have my reasons – it’s because they keep amazing me.

But maybe Twihards have their reasons too. I don’t know.

Moral of the story: Do not attempt to decode the mind of yours truly.