This year I keep going back to an escapist, comfort series. I'm on book 13, and while the bloom is definitely off the lily, I am determined to finish all 18 in the series just so I can say that, damn it, I read 18 books by the same author.
This ambition seemed rather embarrassing yesterday, when I learned that a younger relative, new to the family, has been spending her summer vacation reading fiction and nonfiction regarding Afghanistan. The carrying on of the younger characters in my book series was seeming tedious and cliched even before I learned that I am related to someone who reads deep, important stuff.
I want the young ones in my circle to read. Reading is both improving and consoling. But, come on, do they need to show me up?