superficiality: a moment of introspection

Last night I finished the Bill Bryson book I'd been reading. Being a filthy backpacker I can only carry around one book at a time – I need the rest of my backpack space for tubes of Vegemite, and boots (I can't give them up). So, desperate for something to read, I started browsing through my flatmate's bookcase. I didn't have great expectations; my reading tastes are erratic at best. However, I was still ill-prepared for how low-brow and inadequate I would feel mere seconds later.

The shelves contained every book I have ever aspired to read, but haven't. Rimbaud, Alain de Botton, and Nietzsche, the history of civilization, commentaries on the Arab-Israeli conflict. It was like the ghosts of good literary intentions past. I finally picked out The God of Small Things – the cover was pretty. After 50 pages I had to concede defeat. The wandering prose, subtle similes and sombre tone just didn't hold my interest. And it doesn't end there: the only thing I know about Salman Rushdie is that he cameoed in Bridget Jones' Diary. I have no idea what A Suitable Boy is about – relationship advice, I presume. Also, I hate The Catcher in the Rye. It's not for want of trying: I re-read it every a year, hoping in vain to see the light. I understand that within the context it was written it would have been ground-breaking and irreverent. Nowadays the ideas still resonate, but they are not extraordinary. Salinger's protagonist is essentially just another emo I don't want to hear from.

I'm not proud of this. I didn't set out to be a literary philistine, it's just turned out that way. I find these books are uniformly intimidating, and usually depressing, so to be honest I'd rather steer clear. Some might say that this is characteristic of younger generations – we're too used to things being dumbed down to appreciate fine linguistic turns of phrase and abstract esoteric thought. Personally, I think sometimes some of us need a break from the gloom and doom we are bombarded with on a daily basis. I hate that an inanimate object can make me feel obtuse, or depressed at the futility of existence, so mostly I'd just rather relax with a Ben Elton, or Dazed and Confused.

That or I'll give A Suitable Boy go - I could use the dating tips.