It’s a curious thing

I love to read. It’s a curious thing. I love to eat, too. I’m trying to read not just when I’m eating, and I’m trying not to read books with too many “F” bombs, but they seem to proliferate in many of the volumes I otherwise enjoy.

Is it because I’m trying to walk with Christ that I’m sensitive to cussing? Probably, but where there are a lot of swear and cuss words, it distracts me from the writing, and it dilutes the (bad but striking) impact of the bad words as well.

What am I saying? I’m saying that I don’t like reading bad words in books, but that if many writers persist, they seem to write better when they use them sparingly.

Is an occasional “F” bomb acceptable? No, but I am not all of these writers, I am just one reader.

And another thing: Do we have to dive deeper into depravity with every new show and book? Are we such addicts to crime and sex that writers have to increasingly attempt to shock us?

I would say that most of my writing, good or bad, is trying to steer readers in a better direction, and it is possible, that such a reading muscle might take time to develop.

Just as I have trouble reading without eating, I might have trouble seeing an upbeat book as an entertaining read.

So where does that leave us? Do we douse ourselves in the mire of sin? Or do we inch our way back from that precipice, and find our way back home?

I for one am becoming more sensitive to tales of illicit sex, brutal violence and other sinful stories. I hope we can all find a way back to a simpler time.

A time of unreality? No. A time of censorship? Not really, no.

I hope we can find our way back to enjoying a meal from a fine restaurant more than one culled from the trash, because I think we are getting used to dumpster diving, but maybe I am wrong.

I’d just like to take a literary journey, gritty and real, where I enjoy the process as much as the destination.

That’s my rant, that’s my jam.