Evolution Of Reading Genres

As we grow older, our taste buds change—that’s why we go from gagging at broccoli to voluntarily ordering kale salads. The same goes for our reading habits. What once was a steady diet of fictional love triangles and swoon-worthy heroes has somehow evolved into a smorgasbord of genres that makes my younger self blink in disbelief. Let me take you on a little journey through my reading evolution—a tale of romance, smut, thrillers, and the occasional dragon.

Chapter One: The Romance Era

Growing up, I was a die-hard romance reader. Fictional romance was my bread and butter, my safe haven, my everything. I’d curl up with books where every problem could be solved with a grand gesture and a well-timed kiss in the rain. It was all about happily ever afters and you complete me’s. My bookshelf was a shrine to love stories—and I was convinced that life was just one meet-cute away from perfection.

Little did I know, real life doesn’t come with a soundtrack or perfectly scripted declarations of love. Shocking, I know.

Chapter Two: The Smut Awakening

Then came the smut phase. Oh, the smut phase. It started innocently enough—a steamy scene here, a flirty banter there. Before I knew it, I was devouring books that would make my teenage self blush furiously. The spice level? Off the charts. The plot? Optional. The characters? Suspiciously attractive and constantly finding themselves in conveniently compromising positions.

Let’s just say, these books opened my eyes to a whole new world. And honestly? I have no regrets.

Chapter Three: The Non-Fiction Detour

Somewhere along the way, I stumbled into the realm of non-fiction. It was like being dragged to a museum as a kid and then realizing, Hey, this is actually kind of cool. Suddenly, I was reading about history, psychology, self-help, and random topics I never knew I cared about. Who knew learning could be... fun?

Non-fiction became my way of pretending to be a responsible adult. “Oh, I’m reading a book about the neuroscience of happiness,” I’d say smugly, as if I hadn’t just finished a smutty romance five minutes earlier.

Chapter Four: The Thriller Obsession

Then came the thrillers. Twisty, turny, nail-biting thrillers that kept me up way past my bedtime. I’d sit there, heart racing, whispering, “Just one more chapter,” while simultaneously questioning everyone I’d ever met. These books turned me into a full-blown detective, convinced I could solve any crime with my newfound expertise in fictional forensics.

Chapter Five: The Fantasy Foray

And now? Fantasy. Somehow, I’ve ended up in a world of dragons, magic, and morally ambiguous characters. Teenage me, who scoffed at anything remotely fantastical, would be absolutely horrified. But there’s something magical (pun intended) about escaping to a world where anything is possible—even if it means keeping a glossary handy to remember who’s who.

The Emotional Epilogue

Looking back, my reading journey feels like a reflection of life itself. When I was younger, I wanted the simplicity and certainty of romance. As I grew older, I craved the excitement of thrillers, the spice of smut, the wisdom of non-fiction, and the escapism of fantasy. Each genre has taught me something, shaped me in some way, and left its mark on my ever-growing TBR pile.

So here’s to evolving tastes, unexpected detours, and the joy of discovering new genres. Who knows what’s next? Maybe poetry, or sci-fi, or something I can’t even imagine yet. All I know is that, no matter the genre, I’ll keep turning the pages.