Have you ever had the realization that an author you’ve once enjoyed – even adored – is no longer interesting to you?
After a particularly rough day at the office, I was doing some shopping at Target (my favorite non-bookstore store) and felt the need to browse their (surprisingly good) book section to perhaps pick up something to elevate my mood. I noticed that a new release by Jen Lancaster – her first novel – was available, so I took a look at the jacket copy – and put the book back on the shelf.
I read Lancaster’s memoir Bright Lights, Big Ass, a few years ago on a day when I was running to a bunch of medical appointments (you know you are getting old when you take a vacation day to go to the doctor!) and it was the perfect book for that situation: Short essay-like chapters told in a conversational style and very very funny. After that I read her first book, Bitter is the New Black, and thought it was just ok, but her next release, Such a Pretty Fat was another winner for me, and since then I’ve picked up her new releases not long after publication.
But her last few books, just haven’t clicked with me. It could be that my tastes have changed and that I’ve (ahem) matured somewhat where I don’t find certain topics as funny or as relatable as I once did. I just realized today that when I had her novel in my hands I truly thought about the reasoning behind purchasing a book I wasn’t overly thrilled about “just because” I’ve purchased the rest of the author’s work and decided that my money would be better spent on a book I truly wanted to read (yes, given my bookaholic tendencies I realize this is a bit hypocritical, but it’s a start, right?). There’s some guilt there, but I’ve no doubt there will be plenty of others who will purchase and enjoy her book.
I can think of a few other authors who I’m “tiring” of: Jennifer Weiner comes to mind (I was so disappointed with her last novel, Fly Away Home), and (though I can’t believe I’m saying this) Margaret Atwood doesn’t thrill me with her dystopic work (Oryx & Crake, and The Year of the Flood). Where I once would automatically buy their new books in hardcover (ok with Atwood I likely will — she is a literary goddess after all) I might seriously look at the book and think before making the purchase.