Oops
It occured to me last night -- well, technically at about three this morning when I was lying awake thinking of those sorts of things you think about at three in the morning -- that at least two of the books on the fiction of 2011 list (last post) weren't actually fiction. One was a biography, one was a travel book, and one was a book about a guy hitchhiking around Ireland with a fridge -- which is clearly in a class of book all on its own possibly called Eccentric Things the English Do.
However, "books that I didn't read for work" isn't exactly accurate because I read SF&F not only because I love it but because it behooves me to keep up to the field. (pause for hysterical laughter -- that's been impossible for about thirty years) And I can't call it "pleasure reading of 2011" because I enjoy everything I read including A Traveler's Guide to Cape Breton which I most definitely read for work.
This is why it now says Fiction of 2011 which I would have read even if I wasn't writing in the genre plus three other books I didn't read for specifically for work. In case any of you noticed.
However, "books that I didn't read for work" isn't exactly accurate because I read SF&F not only because I love it but because it behooves me to keep up to the field. (pause for hysterical laughter -- that's been impossible for about thirty years) And I can't call it "pleasure reading of 2011" because I enjoy everything I read including A Traveler's Guide to Cape Breton which I most definitely read for work.
This is why it now says Fiction of 2011 which I would have read even if I wasn't writing in the genre plus three other books I didn't read for specifically for work. In case any of you noticed.