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As a frequent aficionado of all things geeky --videogames, comics, cartoons, etc.-- one would think that I would have developed a strong outer shell to defend myself from the embarrassment that can often be felt by those with interests such as mine. And for the most part I have. I have a small collection of action figures on display in my office, my videogame collection sits proudly beside my DVD's, and several shelves of my library are devoted purely to graphic novels. They are nothing to be ashamed of.

But for all my pride in the things I love --I constantly feel a strong desire to get my friends and family to watch Firefly, or read The Watchmen, or just come over and play a good long round of Boom Blox-- there is still one thing that I'm slightly embarassed about. I'm not sure why I'm so ashamed, just as I'm not sure why I'm sharing this deep dark secret with all of you. But, I suppose I should just come out with it all ready: I read Star Wars novels.

There I said it. Whew, it's good to get that off my chest. As a writer who strives for literary excellence, the fact that I absolutely love these pulpy novelizations and extensions of the Star Wars universe is seemingly against my nature. But then again, as someone who has watched all of the films several times and has a Boba Fett action figure staring at him as he types this, it seems quite natural. I guess my guilty pleasure stems from the clashing of these two disparate side of my personality.

It does get worse, however. In addition to the more then a dozen Star Wars novels I've enjoyed, I've also read several Hellboy novels, which I love just as much. But still, it gets even worse. In anticipation of the release of the epic role-playing videogame Mass Effect, I read the prequel novel that set the stage for the games expansive universe. That could be considered rock bottom.

I find that every time I read one of these books, as much as I enjoy it, my English background forces me to go and read some Oscar Wilde or George Orwell to compensate. I feel somewhat dirty. But acceptance is the first step towards recovery, and so by writing this I guess I'm coming to grips with my problem. But really, it's not a problem, is it? It's not like I read Star Trek novels, now those would be truly embarrassing. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to continue to read about the origins of Darth Bane.

This entry was posted on Thursday, May 29th, 2008 at 1:24 am and is filed under Tales From The Basement. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.