Last year I read three memoirs, a genre I’d never really gotten into in the past. My now-girlfriend (Rachel – she’s going to be around for a while, so you may as well get to know her by name, *grin*) recommended Augusten Burroughs, and I read (or rather, devoured) Running with Scissors and Dry, followed by Lillian Faderman’s Naked in the Promised Land, a suggestion from my best friend, Melissa.
I think I always expected memoirs to be slow-moving, rather musty reads – I’m not sure why, but I think I connect them to “history” in my mind. These books busted my expectation of the genre wide open, and I realize now that this is an accessible way for me – the history dunce – to absorb history on some level: through the life stories of people with whom I share common traits or experiences.
Is there a genre you always swore you could never, would never, get into? Were you “tricked” into reading something in that category, or someone you know insisted that you borrow a specific title? Did you decide to suck it up and give it a shot, and find yourself immersed?
I swore I’d never read dumb books about vampires. And well. Yeah. Also? I did say I’d steer clear of Ayn Rand. She puts me to sleep, but I’m starting to get it.
Ha! I promise not to out you to my readers about the movies.
… oops.
Ayn Rand will hopefully be a new one for me this year; I read Lois Lowry’s The Giver last year and wrote this post about how I wished for something more along the same lines. Someone, and I wish I could remember who, recommended Anthem, which I picked up but haven’t yet read. Which Rand are you reading?