#onehundredyearsofsolitude

It has been one long hiatus, a lot of things happening in life took over my attention. I don’t think I need to explain myself, it is 2020 after all. But now that I am back and have new books on my shelves again that I cannot wait to devour one by one.

When this collection first reached home I was visibly suprised to notice that they were all fiction. Some weeks ago I had written this really long entry into my journal where I talked about how it was almost getting nerve wrecking for me to pick a good, fresh fiction novel again because of how choosy I had become over the years. I had transitioned to non-fiction a long time ago as I thought everyone does eventually and also, it suited my academic needs very well back then. And ever since then, other than a few short stories here and there, or some really mad popular novels that I am recommended more than a dozen times, I had hardly gone beyond the non-fiction genre. Coming back home during this pandemic I found myself in front of a stack of all fiction novellas from my preferences 6 years ago. I am embarassed to say that I immediately looked down upon them and proceeded to read a few memoirs and academic papers on my laptop instead. The fact that I ended with this stack right here shows how I did not stick to the heavy stuff like I planned to either.

I am learning about my own reading habits, with a lot of introspection involved. I am consciously trying to change a few things that I find problematic right now even if they weren’t a few years back. It is a process, and all I need is some patience and more books around me.