There is a victory of sorts in that final book being pushed through the slot, hearing the *thud* and moving on to the next story. Today’s drop comes with a sense of relief also. For this summer I have not left the teen fiction section of the library. Shorter, usually easier reads that are as equally absorbing and gripping as their adult equivalent means perfect summer reading.
But it also means angst. Teenage dramatic angst.
I have read stories this summer about not fitting in (The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian), suicide (Thirteen Reasons Why), boys (3rd and 4th Summers of the Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants), and finding oneself (I Am the Messenger). Brilliant or entertaining novels in their own right but angst and me are thru. (For now at least)
Time for some adult fiction.
Only as I browse through the fiction shelves, the only books I’m finding are on displacement, death, relationships and spirituality. Angst otherwise known as mid-life crisis then.
Requiring something uplifting, or fun, or just plain silly, I give up on adult fiction and head straight for the kids section.
Linguistically simple. Imaginatively complex. Making for reads compelling and gripping still. Minus the angst.
Forget my kids, this is exactly what I need. Autumn days lounging on library floors, scooping up a dozen picture books at a time, then heading home to spread out the goods and absorb brilliance. All before nap time.Three weeks from now, as we drop these books in the return slot, we will no doubt be in a new stage. Maybe feeling mysterious. Could be crafty. Possibly deep or dark. Regardless my mood, I know the library has always got the next story covered.