For reasons I don’t fully understand the Kindle has re…. kindled my interest in fiction. Â Ever since finishing The Illiad I’ve been unimpressed with fiction’s ability to keep its basic promise of telling a compelling story that reveals a part of reality that’s otherwise unknown, unexplored, or at least entertaining as these “revelations” are usuallyÂ pedestrianÂ or impossible. Â But, I maintain an interest in being a generically well-read person despite inevitably turning back to what I consider the vastly more compelling world of fact and discovery that has a roughly 1-to-1 correspondence with reality.
The Kindle upturns this, maybe by reversing my fear of someone discovering my counteridiomatic reading or having to lug around a book that by definition contains something that never happened. Â So, I started reading the collected stories of HP Lovecraft and was suckered into paying the extra dollar to get 102 stories instead of the more common collection of about 70. Â I started reading the collection and immediately realized why the standard corpus includes 30 fewer stories; because those 30 stories suck. Â Every page was supposed to contain tales of the macabre involving beings from beyond the uncaring universe in which we drift. Â I’ve read about 10 so far and each one of them absolutely blew. Â I’m tempted to do something I never do except with music and “just read the good ones”.