Read a Book You'll Hate

Laura Miller says:

What we tell ourselves about ourselves tends to be a bit of a performance; what interests -- or bores -- us is who we really are.

A journal of the year's reading can also serve as a reminder of your own blind spots. Now that blogging has made personal year-end lists ubiquitous, I can't help noticing the persistence of many lamentable old patterns: A lot of men only read books written by other men. (Women, with the exception of romance buffs, tend to be more ecumenical.) Other people exclusively read fiction or nonfiction, and still others never crack a book that wasn't originally written in English or part of a particular genre, or about a favorite region.

Even those of us obliged to read a wide variety of books develop our own highly specific crochets. I will resist any book set on a ranch like a cat fighting a bath; likewise, memoirs by women obsessed with their mothers. If I happen to flip through a graphic novel and see a scene in which 20-something characters complain about their relationships in a cafe -- back on the display table it goes posthaste. Historical fiction set in early 20th-century America, especially the silent movie business? No, thank you very much.