The utility of books

I don’t mean to prop up that one short table leg, but why do we read what we read when we read it? Why do we choose different books at different times? (I’m assuming that none of us devote ourselves strictly to crime fiction or even to fiction, though I’m willing to stand corrected if I’m wrong.)

I was thinking of this today because I’m currently devouring “The Last True Story I’ll Ever Tell,” John Crawford’s articulate unburdening of his year-plus spent as a reluctant soldier (a National Guardsman) in Iraq. As Sarah noted, I’m lucky enough to review books for a good part of my living and the Boston Phoenix set me on this one. I’m grateful; it’s a lot easier to read something engaging than not. But as I wade through the blood, sand, and feces with Crawford, I’m also planning what to read next. Because although I have some reviews outstanding the next one is for me. And I’m thinking that after Iraq, I’ll need something just for fun – something distracting, but written with sufficient wit and beauty to really take me away. I could just finish my latest go-round with Hilary Mantel’s “A Place of Greater Safety,” a novel so rich with place and psychic/psychological import that I re-read it oh, probably once a year. But that’s my before-sleep read, at least this week. I could return to “Mina,” by a Boston-area author, Jonatha Ceely. I’ve been dipping into this Victorian off and on with the idea that I might be interested in her next book, due this fall, and might find a way to write about a local author. But that’s got a work angle to it, despite my pleasure in its pages.

No, I think after Iraq I need a little respite, something lighter. That could mean one of the solid new historicals: Jacqueline Winspear’s “Pardonable Lies” is on the to-be-read pile. Or maybe I’ll treat myself to Barbara Cleverly’s “The Palace Tiger.” They’ll be my escape from the filthy, conflicted present. My late-summer gift to myself.

Does that sound self-indulgent or lazy? I have a little trouble admitting that this is often how I chose a pleasure read. But I suspect this is often how people who do read cozies read them. (I’ve got one foot in that camp, so that is of interest to me.) Some, I’m sure, never venture beyond the subgenre’s comforting boundaries. But many (I suspect) take them as breaks between heavier books, or at times of personal stress. They’re mental vacations, literary crossword puzzles that occupy and divert. A little sweet, a diversion, which is where a lot of scorn for the type probably comes in.

But really, don’t we all read different books at different times for different reasons? I can’t be the only person who has several books going at once, can I? And don’t we all at times seek something just challenging enough to engage, a sweetmeat after something crustier or chewy? If you’ve a moment, share what you’re reading now. Let me know if you read different styles of books at different times, and why. You don’t have to respect me – I’m just curious!