When I started college, the Hunger Games was the new phenomenon. Just as happened after Twilight, a billion books with the same setting or focus started saturating bookstore shelves. Now, I’m not saying this is a bad thing. Some of my favorite books came from the recent Dystopian resurgence. But with all those cool new books coming out, I burned myself out quickly and badly. As a result, new Dystopians are a bad taste in my mouth. I’m sure they’re very interesting and probably something I’ll eagerly read at some point. But until I get past the burn out, I won’t be looking at any of them.
This sucks, for the record. Because knowing a book is going to be awesome and having the motivation to read it are incredibly different things. For example: I’m currently looking at the Lunar Chronicles by Marissa Meyer. They look amazing and I’ve heard a billion good things about them. And while I love a good retelling, these are not only tinged with sci-fi, one of my least favorite genres, but they’re set in a distant future. And that means that if I try to read these before I’m totally out of the Dystopian Distaste Forest, I’ll end up with a skewed opinion of them. Who wants to do that to perfectly good books?! Since I haven’t read the series yet, I don’t know if they’re truly Dystopian or not, but the future setting is enough to make me wary of how I’ll feel while reading them.
Due to this embargo on a huge genre, my reading phases have had to adjust. I have looked at tons of contemporary, from light and frothy to deep and intense. I’ve added childhood favorites to my reread list, I’ve relied on my reading challenge to aid in finding fresh reads, and I’ve eyed The Selection to see if it’s just enough of a mix between total favorite book and genre I’m staying away from to dip my toes back into the Dystopian pool (I’m not sure, but I’m going to reread it anyways).
I betrayed my silly reader heart, and as a result, I have to be careful what I had to my shelves. Instead of the new Dystopians, I look for the exact opposite in Rainbow Rowell and Jenny Han, hoping that their wonderful books will help usher in a new era of my love for the genre I’ve consumed too quickly.
Do you struggle with genre burnout? If so, how do you get past it and how long does it take? What genres have you gotten sick of reading, and what do you read in their stead? Help!