Growing Up, Literarily Speaking

When I was a child, it didn't take much for a work of fiction (or a movie or a TV show, for that matter) to delight, amuse, and amaze me.

Now, as an adult it takes a lot more for an author to do the same for me. I have more sophisticated tastes. Things that as a kid I wouldn't have picked up on will now cause me to throw a book across the room.

But I wonder - am I getting less or more enjoyment in exchange for my discriminating adult tastes?

Is it really worth it to be savvy enough to pick out author's mistakes and catch on to metaphors and allusions and all the other "grown up" delights that are supposed to be in books.

Upon re-reading The Rowan and Damia (by Anne McCaffrey), I really wish I could see those books through the same eyes. When I first read them (age 12), I thought they were absolutely the best books ever.

Now, I see a lot of unbelieveably big flaws in them. The kind that make me huff and say "come on, now" and stop reading.

I wish I could enjoy them the way I used to.

It also makes me very afraid that in ten years I'll look at books like American Gods and say, "I remember when I thought Neil Gaiman was a genius". Because I like *liking* Neil Gaiman. He's quirky and inventive and English and very funny and a little creepy. And in dire need of a haircut.