I don’t like sad books. No. Strike that. It’s not that I don’t like them. I detest them. I avoid them. I read to escape and to experience something outside my everyday experience. Not that I have a lot of sad days, just enough of them that I’d like to keep some distance, if you know what I mean.
But I know that’s not healthy.
I know that some of the best books I’ve read, some of the books that have touched me the deepest, are those that made me cry. Made me feel. Made me live.
So, I need to stretch my boundaries. Not avoid books that look like they might take me through an emotional wringer.
I read Eleanor and Park.
And I survived.
Then I picked up Gayle Forman’s If I Stay. Even when a car accident happened in the first chapter, I kept going. TO THE END.
It’s like I’m a grownup or something.
Though I’m still avoiding books about adorable dogs getting up in years.