As a kid I had quite a taste for trashy sci-fi and fantasy books, and I must have devoured hundreds of them before I moved to New York at the ripe old age of eighteen. Unfortunately, I sold them all before the move, along with most of my other sellable possessions, because I had some idea about it being cool not to own very many things, and also because I wanted the money.

Over the past few weeks I’ve been in the mood to reread some of the books I got rid of, mostly for nostalgic reasons. I’ve been picking up used and discounted paperback copies (which will probably still end up costing me more than I made by selling them in the first place), and it’s pretty satisfying to revisit some of these series. Fantasy especially is still something I consider a guilty pleasure (with a few exceptions), but then again I can’t read Kierkegaard all the time.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to enjoy Anne Rice again, though. I tried rereading Interview a while back and was immediately put off, and that’s hardly the worst of her stuff. I couldn’t get more than a few pages into it, so I don’t think I’ll even attempt any of the others.