Reading Drought

I'm finding myself stuck in a reading drought these past few months. I brought a few books with me on this two-month-long road-trip that I'm on with my boyfriend, Rob, but I've only cracked open one, and I didn't get very far into it. I've found that this curious literary drought happens to me somewhat regularly, especially in the last few years as I've gotten deeper into my own creative writing and doing editorial work for freelance clients. I've also noticed it occurring after I read a fantastic book. It's as though the book I'd just read was so fabulous, so amazing, so transformative that it has drained me, leaving me unable to delve into a new one for a considerable period of time. It's been a good many months now since I finished "Eat, Pray, Love," and damn it if Elizabeth Gilbert hasn't taken it all out of me. Now, I'm not going to go on a tangent about the wonders of her best-selling memoir. I've found it to be a very divisive book, particularly among women. You love it, or you loathe it. To each his own, something especially important when it comes to reading. I'm acutely sensitive to the manipulative persuasion of "recommending" books. If it's got Oprah's seal, I won't read it. But Gilbert's book was given to me as a gift, long after it had gone through its initial "oh my God, isn't this amazing" phase. I thought I'd give it a whirl and then sell it online. Her writing style and persona — actually more so than the storyline — is what moved me and filled me up with the possibilities and potential of truly resplendent creative nonfiction. It was one of the few reading experiences I've had where I so desperately didn't want the pages to end. I craved the evening time when I could dive right in and soak up more of the text. But then it was over, and I felt a disconcerting emptiness at its loss. Will I ever find another book to match that? Of course I will. That it's taking (seemingly) so long is what's bothering me. I've tried a few, but nothing's caught on. I've even finished a few shorter collections of letters and essays, but I can't even recall well their distinct minutiae other than that I read them. Perhaps it's being a writer that has added to this fickle problem. When you put so much thought into creating and crafting sentences, after a certain point you don't really want to be around any more damn sentences. It will come back, though, I know it will. More uplifting and moving pages will find their way to me some time. In the meanwhile, any non-Oprah-esque recommendations?

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