Hello. My name is Sara K., and I am a book snob. If it is not a classic, then I do not want to read it. I am finally admitting my problem after years of failed interventions from family and friends who propose adding non-classics to my reading list. It's a modern classic, they say. It's just like Jane Austen, they say. It's gripping and you won't be able to put it down, they say. I politely smile and nod and tell them I'll keep that book in mind, while secretly I'm lamenting all the great classics that have made it onto Wishbone but not into my hands. Not that I use a talking dog as my standard for knowing the best books to read, but I think there's a reason he never resorted to modern literature. It's just not as good. I think I've given it a fair chance, but in my opinion Harry is no Frodo. Sue Grafton doesn't compare with Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and I've yet to find anyone who can rival Austen's subtle wit and understated passions.
Yes, I admit that I'm a book snob. It's a crime to be so unfair and it's a punishment to miss the pop culture afforded by Peretti, Grisham, and Rowling. I'm sure that even Rory Gilmore would recommend a more diversified reading list, but it's just too hard for me to change my ways. It's a disease I have to live with, and I hope that in time my well-meaning family and friends will learn to accept my errant snobbery, or at least accept my apologies for being so proud and prejudiced.