I had always known that if I was going to spend a considerable (by the eclectic reading standards of a voracious reader) amount of time on romance, I would have to change the style of writing I use to review them. And, because this is in the main a blog for books that don’t come under the romance genre, I felt it might be good to discuss this change in style formally.

Ergo from now on I will not be reviewing romance novels from the point of view of a person new to romance.

Although I am still new to romance, as I haven’t covered many authors and have selected titles from the same two publishers, I feel that it would be rather cheeky of me to keep referring back to my unromantic reading background. I also know that it is probably going to get irksome if I keep discussing things such as the quality of writing in romance compared to other genres because in a lot of cases this difference is well documented and accepted, in a lot of cases it’s simply not true, and you don’t need me going on about it as though my aim is to show that my reading choices are superior.

Because they’re not. And I have guilty pleasures just like everyone else.

So from now on romances on this site will be reviewed in the same way as all other books. However this blog post does herald something else – I will not be reading and thus will not be reviewing as much romance in future as I have been recently. And that future begins now. As discussed in my last Venture post, I have found an author I will carry on reading, Ella Drake, and now I will be adding Shannon Stacey to this for her wonderful Yours To Keep.

So for those of you who wish I was reviewing more of the types of books I was before, you can now relax. But for those who welcomed it, it isn’t going to be abandoned.

However from now on I am going to be incredibly picky about what I read and review when it comes to romance.

The days are longer, the weather is nicer, and I have a lot more time to read than I did even just a month ago.

So why am I metaphorically running away from books every time I ask myself what I should do with my free-time and myself answers “you could read?…”

In part I know it’s due to the fact that I’ve been reading a lot of books recently that have been sent to me for review, books I hadn’t heard of before: therefore I’m not getting that satisfaction of feeling I’ve truly achieved something. It also has to do with the fact that a few of the books I’ve said yes to haven’t enamoured me much.

In part it is my own issue with wanting to choose incredible books to read but being put off from it because I know they are going to overwhelm my mind. For example I want to read Shanghai Girls but historical fiction means learning for me, a history-freak, and right now I don’t want to study (that in itself is amazing).

Mostly though, there’s just something missing, and I think that ironically what is missing is the lack of free-time to read. Sounds crazy doesn’t it, but I think the fact that during my university course I knew I couldn’t spend forever reading, meant that I made good choices on books (even if they turned out to be bad) and structured my reading time better. Right now I have a number of things I want and need to do but because there are still a few more months to go before study returns, I’m thinking, “oh, I can do that tomorrow”, which becomes next week and so on.

Where reading’s concerned I’m taking my books incredibly slowly and before I know it June’s over and I’ve read a measly two books with one on the go. Not exactly what I was hoping for.

I know I’ve been doing other things, being social while the sun is around, but I’ve no excuse. This reading slump is of a kind I haven’t experienced so far since I started reviewing in 2009 and, quite frankly, it’s rather scary.

Have I ever told you that I like to browse academic texts well before I consider reading them? If, on browsing, I see little numbers scattered about the text, I will put the book back and try another book on the same subject but by a different author.

The only books with footnotes that I have ever been able to stand are Terry Pratchett’s Discworld series. Maybe it’s because I’m not keen on mathematics, but something about small numbers in the middle or end of sentences really puts me off. I do know that there is an element of the numbers causing you to break off and consider whether you should check the reference or not.

This hate of footnotes, because it really is quite extreme in me, has lead me to read only books by people who include references solely in the acknowledgements (my reason for reading Alison Weir’s work so much) and to actively seek out editions of classic literature also without the offensive numbers (I finally found the Vintage versions of classics). This latter phenomenon really gets to me – I don’t see why we need footnotes in our classics. Doing it effectively says that they are completely separate to contemporary literature, and it is this idea that is partly the reason why children today find the prospect of reading them so dull – I say that from personal experience as a 15 year old with classmates feeling the same. If reading an ancient translated text where the meaning is difficult to illustrate in English, footnotes make sense, but on my quest to find a good copy of Jane Austen’s work I came across footnotes for words like “fireplace” and “chair” where the objective of the footnote was to tell the reader what exact types of fireplaces and chairs these were likely to be. Not only is this unnecessary, but when the word is “likely” it shows that this is just a guess by the editor. And if Austen had been thinking of a particular type of item, wouldn’t she have mentioned it herself?

It has taken university study for me to understand why footnotes in academic texts are useful, even if I will never agree with notes in classic literature. In my desire to read Antonia Fraser’s Marie Antoinette I had to way up said desire against my hate of footnotes and for once the desire won – I consciously bought a book with footnotes in it. Granted the notes are at the end of the book, but the numbers are still floating around the main pages.

I have discovered that if my desire for the knowledge in a book is great enough then I am likely to miss many of the numbers. Despite a few pauses for thought on Fraser’s reliability, I have found this to be the case.

So I will give in to the possibilities of there being footnotes in my books, and realise that if I want to read the version of Frances Burney’s Cecilia that I like the look of, I’m going to have to let go of my hate then too, even if it is a classic. I will never be admirer of footnotes, but I will try to be indifferent.

What do you think of footnotes?

Several months ago I decided that I’d like to broaden my reading horizons and that the romance genre was the way to do this (I’d read pretty much every other genre except it). Now, all those months down the line, I feel in a position to be able to discuss my experience.

I should say that I’m aware that only one of the authors I read is prolific – Jennifer Greene – and that I limited my choices to ebooks that were free, be it review copies or publisher giveaways. I actually only read books by Carina Press and Mills & Boon. But I do feel that I now have some sort of grounding, even if I realise that there are a few more books on my list to read before I make my final decision over whether to continue with the genre and make it part of my usual reading.

I read science fiction, erotic romance, contemporary, and historical. I found that the erotic romance was more to my taste simply because it was less cheesy – with all the sex going on there were less hearts, flowers, and gooey conversations. As mentioned in my May reading round-up, two works of contemporary – one set in a castle (Exposed: Misbehaving With The Magnate) and the other in a routine life (No More Mr. Nice Guy) – were enough for me to determine that contemporary romance isn’t for me. To be honest this wasn’t much of a surprise as I have always been a huge history fan and find the past in general very romantic with all the beautiful dresses, long-haired men, and incredible novels to choose from in which the romance genre is an additional one. I just find history in general very sexy even if in reality it was a time of smelly rush floors and few baths.

Although I did like The Spurned Viscountess I also found out something else that I had a feeling about all along – regency romances are something I could easily forget about. I do intend to read Eloisa James but apart from that wigs and powder just don’t do it for me, even if the characters don’t use them themselves.

This won’t be surprising considering I said erotic romance was okay – I plan to read at least one more Ella Drake despite only giving her books 3.5/5. Her stories and use of fantasy and sci-fi have me interested in following her career.

So I may be incorporating some romance into my reading, but not nearly as much as the current onslaught you’ve seen here at The Worm Hole. And one thing that’s very important now is that the books I read are physical copies because I do think reading them digitally hasn’t helped enamour me.

The last time I had a bookcase was about 18 years ago. Although it was well used, with Enid Blyton squeezed into non-existent gaps and Ladybird books (remember those?) filling up whole shelves, I didn’t get much satisfaction from it because although I liked reading it was just a hobby. And where childhood is generally simpler than adulthood it is easy to take things for granted.

Finally I have a book case. I need one more, but it’s so nice to be able to pick up a newly finished novel and put it on a shelf – well, as long as the author’s surname is within the range of A-O, which is what my current one stretches to. Such a small thing, but to me being able to remove and replace a book at leisure without going through unorganised books is incredible. And it’s allowed me to see that I actually don’t have all that many books, which is in a way brilliant. It means there is a bit of space for a few more purchases.

I’ve been sitting on the floor in front of the bookcase with a book in one hand, a coffee in the other, and pen and notebook in front of me. Sitting on the floor obscures the ceiling and thus makes it appear that the books reach the top (I know I’m not the only one who dreams of a library akin to that in Beauty And The Beast). Having literature to hand and to gaze at while you’re working is a wonderful thing and I am finding it so inspiring.