A few weeks ago, I made a decision. I was going to read more. As a boy, I enjoyed reading. But somewhere along the line, the tone of books targeted at me turned. Around the age of 13, I noticed that instead of fantastic adventures and mythical stories, all of the books on our library’s “recommended” section turned to tales of sober pre-teens dealing with everything from neglectful parents to the death of peers. Perhaps I came from a naive, privileged background, but these stories did nothing but bore me at best, and dim my future hopes for humanity at worst. I became disenchanted, stopped reading, and save for picking up a few books here and there along the way, have never been able to pick it back up.