How easy it is to fall into habit. A few years ago I decided to read every novel under 200 pages at my local library. Now, automatically, my eyes glide over fat books and focus only on the slim ones. A few years earlier I had started reading fiction in translation. So what do we have now? I look for non-English authors among thin books.
Last year, of course, my reading was dominated by women writers. As a result, these days I almost by default ignore fat books that are not translated and are by men.
I guess that means that it will be an effort for me to even locate the next book in G.R.R. Martin's saga.
Meanwhile, in my constant search for new authors, I find myself reading very little by authors I had already read before. Exceptions remain, though, and they're usually in genre fiction. Now that it appears no new translations are forthcoming in Boris Akunin's Erast Fandorin series, or in Arturo Pérez-Reverte's Captain Alatriste series, my series reads are restricted to Scott Lynch's Gentlemen Bastards sequence and Robert Galbraith's Cormorant Strike set. Alan Bradley's Flavia de Luce has become far too self-indulgent and unnecessarily conspiratorial, so I'm losing interest there. And, to be honest, I'm getting a bit tired of Precious Rhamotswe as well. These are a generally time-pass sort of books, requiring little concentration or effort, but now that Mma Makutsi is happily married, there's not much to look forward to.
I keep thinking I should read the Malazan series but have you seen the size of those tomes? Each is thousands of pages long and there are at least 13 in the series. Sakura is a long-standing fan and has been urging me to give it a go for years. I persuaded a colleague to get the lot and he's utterly captivated. In turn, he wanted me to check out Stephen King's Dark Tower novels. I don't know if I have the enthu.