It’s true. I don’t. And the reason that i’m the mostly happy Angry Reader is bc i found my Book SoulMate. We connected through GoodReads and FaceBook a few months ago – united by, you guessed it, a book. And as we compared Read piles and TBR piles it became clear that there were some startling similarities. A compatible sense of the quirky, the beautiful and the this-is-too-damn-sad-to-waste-my-precious-reading-time-on. (Quick tip – have immense book faith in anyone who loves Neil Gaiman. He’s a fabulous barometer of taste).
Shortly after we connected i entered a phase where i was reading a ton of contemporary romance – some okay and some really really bad. She didn’t read much of that, but she was amused by my reviews and reactions. As my Book SoulMate and i were gently nurturing our fledgling relationship, i read a brand new, and much anticipated, sports romance book.
Gentle Reader, i lost my shit. The book was one where the hero was to be applauded and admired for no longer participating in threesomes. There was a plot point involving our hero wanting to sleep with other women but his dick not allowing it. This was supposed to make me swoon. My updates were scathing. My review was vicious. And my little book-loving soul was battered and bruised.
In rode my BSM – a white knight on a shining steed. Through text and Goodreads she offered comfort, solace and reading recommendations. And holy shit – that’s when it became obvious that she wasn’t just a funny, quirky, and brilliant online chat buddy. This woman knows my literary soul. Everything she has recommended has delighted me. Thus, i am on a literary honeymoon. She’s gone through her favorite books, and i have a plethora of promising To-Be-Reads.
But fear not, Gentle Reader. She can’t ply me with books forever. Sooner or later i’ll be lured by the siren’s song of another shirtless male torso glistening on a cover. And your Angry Reader will be back – in all her snarky glory.