I love reading in the summer. I also just love reading. Anytime, anywhere.
But reading in the summer seems drastically different than reading during, say, winter, where I find the most contrast (temperature differences aside) between the two. This probably isn’t a new insight for many people, but sometimes I find myself talking to those who just don’t seem to understand why reading War and Peace just isn’t right during the summer. Trust me, I tried. I even took it to the beach, where reading is a main activity of mine. Nothing. Nada. I couldn’t do it. I just kept getting this feeling that the book would have been great by a nice, cozy fire sometime in mid to late January.
I have an inability to read certain types of books during the summer. Heavy novels begin to be unbearably difficult to digest, and the call of books like The Hunger Games beckon from afar. My mom recently pulled out Dante’s Inferno from the bookshelves we’re packing away, and I started to retch on sight of it. What if I started to read that? I’d probably throw up immediately.
This isn’t to say that I’ll start reading Shirtless on the Riviera* (cover with Fabio-esque man) once the temperatures rise. It’s not. I refuse to lower myself to that level. I can’t even read 50 Shades of Grey without wanting to throw acid in my eyes. (Before you think I’m afraid of the sex, I’m not. I’ve read fanfiction. That shit is scary.)
My solution is turning to less “Serious Literature but still Literature” books. Young Adult novels, for example, are so prime. They are interesting reads while still being somewhat serious. Sometimes. Maybe not like, Confessions of Georgia Nicholson. (Still fun to read).
Then there are humorous novels. David Sedaris, Bill Bryson, that book by Tina Fey. Perfect summer reading. The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid is literally the perfect book for any situation for reading in the summer. (Bonus: you learn cool retro-ish facts!) Or The Nanny Diaries. Lighter novels that have a little something that make you think after reading them is what I think a Summer Book is.
Literally anything by Dickens is a Winter Book.
See the difference? I do!
What do you think? Is there a difference in what kind of literature you read throughout the year?