I’ve learned over the last year or so of attending library book clubs that I’m not much for literary criticism. Spending time with librarians and former English teachers (and one person who is both a librarian and an ex-English teacher) can make you feel like you are a bumbling idiot. This used to bother me but I’ve decided to embrace my shallowness. I knew I had no desire to grow as a reader when they were discussing difficult books and the joy they found in books that you need to reread each page in several times in order to really get the meaning.
Nope, I read to keep my brain busy. I’m a “tell me a story” reader. I can proudly stand up and say that I like chick-lit. If it has a pink cover I’ll probably read it.
So imagine my shock when I found out yesterday that I’ve been reading what some consider to be “good” books. Check out this great post about Terry Pratchett’s Discworld books and their pagan meanings. I knew I liked them but I thought it was because they were funny and satirical. I didn’t know people were sneaking in learning under my nose! In honor of my new knowledge I got a few out of the library yesterday. If you haven’t ever read them I highly recommend it.