Weird Fiction Review: There's been a real lack of fiction but a whole lot of weird

(Peri)pathetic reading habits

Last year, when I wrote this piece about my experiences reading Hagstone by Sinead Gleeson and Stone Yard Devotional by Charlotte Wood, I thought I had cured my reading slump.

I concluded that forcing myself to read what I ‘think’ I should read, as opposed to what I gravitate towards in the moment, was doing myself a disservice. I said:

Meaning-seeking is at the heart of why I read. I have been trying to articulate an answer to the question of why I read for months, writing and rewriting this piece. That reading is about finding meaning and not just entertainment feels profound and yet so obvious it hurts. It has taken me a year of wondering what is wrong with me to realise that many of the books I was reading were not serving me. That what was undermining my reading habits was a shift in my own perspective.

At that point in my life, my conclusion was correct. I was searching for answers to why I felt so downtrodden in my career path, how everything felt so rushed and I had no energy left for being creative. And what better way to navigate my world than through the eyes of another to find the path I needed. I wanted to see characters make difficult choices that honoured how they wanted to live their lives and see them through to the end. Gleeson and Wood both delivered in spades and I was buoyed to make some difficult choices of my own.

But this time my reading slump feels different. This time, it feels like my brain is already too full and the contents is pressing against my eyeballs. Every time I open a book, my eyes don’t want to take the words in. I’ve picked up fiction. I’ve picked up non-fiction. I’ve been too distrusting of the quality of the fantasy books coming out these days to take a punt on a new series. I even tried reading essays on German literary criticism from the 1970s because I’m interested in the role that criticism plays in a healthy literary culture—because I am that kind of nerd. But for the vast majority of those (including the essays on German literary criticism), I’ve only made it a chapter or two in.

It’s hard to avoid placing blame on how much is happening in our world at the moment and the impact it is having on my reading habits. I was already someone who pays attention to the news, but the last few months have pushed me into overdrive. The news is the first thing I read when I wake up, and I often watch the news while eating breakfast. Then, when I start work for the day, I will have a scroll through some of the other news outlets I trust. The content is by and large depressing and I think we’re all sufficiently aware of how gobsmackingly shit everything is that I don’t have to list it. In truth, it’s hard to look away. I also don’t want to look away for that would be contrary to my civic-mindedness.

Yesterday, I started reading Peripathetic by Cher Tan and I became engrossed. It surprised me. In one day I got halfway through, which feels like a little beacon of light that my reading brain isn’t dead after all. A work of several essays loosely described as ‘notes on (un)belonging’, Tan doesn’t aim to answer any questions. The hook for me is that she hits on so many discordant notes about living in the modern world as a millennial (of which I am one) and tries to parse for herself the contradictions. What I’ve taken away so far is that it is not necessarily the conclusion that leads to a satisfying read, but the thought processes that get us there. Not only are her ideas interesting, but I am thoroughly enjoying Tan’s writing and the fluidity of language. It’s funny and self-effacing, but effortlessly moves between the vernacular of the internet to that of the professional. I’m excited to finish it.

But then I’m faced with that eternal question: what do I read next? Perhaps I’m due for an extended break from fiction, which doesn’t bode well for the premise of the Weird Fiction Review. However, we live in weird times so maybe it will be good to shake things up. I still want to flex that critical thinking muscle, but perhaps that needs to be channeled into a different kind of observation. Look out for what’s next in this space.

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So, what have you been reading? I would love to know in the comments if you’ve experienced a similar nauseated rejection of your usual book choices or if you’ve been guzzling down novels like the world is ending tomorrow.

To contemplate our reading habits is just as important as with the content of what we read :)