Tell me a story

I have almost given up reading fiction. For one thing there is almost always something I am curious about. I usually have at least one nonfiction book by my bed. Whether its gardening, health care, self improvement, there is something I want to know more about.

Also, I have too many magazine subscriptions. I can’t read them all, but can’t decide which to get rid of. They clutter my house in various stages of consumption. I have Elle Décor, Entrepreneur and Good Housekeeping in one bathroom, Good Housekeeping and Bette r Homes and Gardens in the other bathroom, Organic gardening and another Elle Décor by the bed, Organic Gardening and Mother Earth News in the kitchen, and a stack of magazines I haven’t started in the living room. This stack in the living room includes a few months of Planning Magazine that I know I will not read but can’t quite get rid of.

So it’s not that I am not reading. Right now I am fascinated with The End of Overeating by David Kessler. I ordered it the first day it came out after hearing 2 interviews with the author. When I finish I will happily share as everyone should read this book. It is a scientific exploration of the way sugar fat and salt affects the brain. Did you know that foods high in sugar fat and salt actually alter your brain chemistry? This book explains my cheeseburger cravings.

But I am left hungry for a good story. Fiction was my drug of choice for most of my life. It provided an escape from whatever, heartache, problems, confusion, or boredom I was suffering. If the book is well written it is a bonus, but it had to have a good enough story to keep my brain focused. And now I find fiction is failing me. It is becoming rarer that I really enjoy a book, even a ‘good’ book. I read two books on my last vacation and while they were both well written, interesting stories, I didn’t love them. The stories were not enough to hold me. They were both more about the emotional exploration of the characters then about the story.

I spent hours at Barnes and Noble yesterday looking for something to read. I finally did pick up something from the discount table on my way to the cash register. (I was buying something for work) I bought Ret Butlers People, the companion to Gone with the Wind, one of the first books that changed me. 0ther books I looked at where too short, too much sap and not enough substance, too dark, or just plain not relatable.

So now I am left to wonder- is it just me? Am I getting old and jaded? Did my earlier reading frenzies burn out the love? Do I watch too many movies?

Or is the art of the story being lost?

What is the last book that captured your imagination?