My Kindle robotically tells me I'm 93% through Brave New Worlds. It's a depressing reminder how slow I am in reading this collection of short fiction. I was on a tear in December and January for reading, and now I see I'm back to my plodding pace.
So, instead of my usual whining, how about some silver lining?
I'm genuinely astounded at how I, and presumably other readers, approach narratives. When I read a novel, I enter a narrative, however complex, of compelling characters and events. This all feels natural. I'm eager to turn pages and discover the ups and downs of it all.
But, in truth, it requires effort. Let me call it interpretive effort. I get invested into the tale. It doesn't even mean I must "like" the characters; it holds true even when I find them fascinatingly abhorrent. The point remains; it takes effort to read and appreciate fiction, and certainly to consider its value and meaning as a story.
When I read short fiction in series, that seemingly natural feel fades away, and that interpretive effort becomes obvious. Each story takes that little bit of investment that adds up -- for me, at least -- to interpretive effort. This is true for me regardless of my fondness for the stories. Brave New Worlds is excellent overall, and yet I'm still plodding along, emotionally worn out, so to speak.
I should add that Brave New Worlds is a collection of dystopian fiction. It seethes with bleak themes and ugly, depressing resolutions. It takes more emotional verve than usual to kick off reading a second story after just finishing one in which, say, work camp revolutionaries are literally obliterated.
That said, I think the point stands. Again, it's not complaining. I find it a fascinating thing for both readers and writers.
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