In the corner of my living room stands an old wooden barrel filled with books I mean to read. Some of them have been waiting there for years, gathering dust so thick I could probably carbon date it. The bright, shiny covers get pulled out first. The dull, beige ones—usually literary fiction or anything without magic—tend to stay buried.
When faced with a choice, I gravitate toward the familiar.
The books that look like my kind of thing. The ones with an elaborate font on the cover and a glossary in the back. I know what I like. But I also know what that comfort zone can become if I’m not careful: a cage.
And that’s the thing. It’s easy to stay in your lane, especially when that lane is lined with such excellent fantasy and science fiction. But if the genres I love have taught me anything, it’s this: the best stories happen when someone breaks the rules. When the boundaries get blurred. When we go off the map.
A few years ago, I forced myself to read Crime and Punishment.
I say forced, because it was very much a decision born of stubbornness, not curiosity. It was 300 pages too long and no one smiled once, but it gave me a glimpse into the human mind that fantasy rarely offers in quite the same way.
Another time, I picked up Dear Life by Alice Munro, a collection of short stories by a Canadian writer I’d never heard of until she was shortlisted for the Nobel Prize. Not my style, not my usual genre, but brilliant. Her writing had a quiet intensity. She could sketch a life with just one sentence. I didn’t even know you could do that. I wanted to learn how.
That’s where it started. Reading outside my genre wasn’t just about becoming a “better reader”. It made me a better writer. So now, every year, I make a deal with myself. I read at least one of each of the following:
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One book of poetry. Poetry has a way of folding whole worlds into a single breath. It teaches you to look at the mundane and the profound with fresh eyes. Recently I read Dream Drawings by N. Scott Momaday. I didn’t even know story poetry was a thing: tiny scenes, no rhyme, just vivid fragments of lives. It felt like reading someone else’s dreams, and somehow understanding them anyway.
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An anthology. Short stories, by necessity, are economical. They demand precision. They don’t have the luxury of wandering around for a hundred pages before getting to the point (looking at you, Dostoevsky). Anthologies add variety: different voices, different styles, different tones. Every story feels like a lesson. Case in point: Stories of Your Life and Others by Ted Chiang.
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Any book outside fantasy, sci-fi, or YA. As much as I love those genres, I don’t want to become confined by them. Reading literary fiction, thrillers, non-fiction, even romance, gives me contrast. It stretches me. And sometimes, the unexpected contrast teaches you the most. Such as the heartbreaking You Made a Fool of Death with Your Beauty by Akwaeke Emezi.
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A biography. I’m fascinated by the choices people make, and the stories they tell about themselves. Most recently, I read Patrick Stewart’s memoir Making It So, which was just as theatrical, generous, and layered as you’d expect. Memoirs and biographies ground me in reality in a way nothing else does.
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A craft book. Writing is a skill, not a mystery. There’s always more to learn. Whether it’s structure, voice, revision, or process, craft books remind me that good writing isn’t magic. It’s work. Work I love, but work, nonetheless.
It’s worth it to look beyond the cover.
When I say “cover”, I mean more than just the literal book jacket. I mean all the signals we take in at a glance—genre, blurb, author, tone—and how quickly we decide: Not for me. But if I’ve learned anything, it’s that those snap decisions can be wrong.
Sometimes, that “dull-looking” book turns out to be unforgettable. Sometimes the writing is sharp, or the structure is unlike anything I’ve seen before. Sometimes the themes go places my favorite authors wouldn’t dare touch. And sometimes, yes, it is boring. But even then, I learn something about why it didn’t work for me.
So no, I don’t read books just because the cover looks good. But I do sometimes pick one up because the cover is boring and I want to prove myself wrong. And once in a while, I am.
Breaking out of the genre loop
Fantasy and science fiction often celebrate transformation, the crossing of thresholds, the journey into the unknown. If you’re a fan of those genres, chances are you’re already open to exploring what’s different. The irony is that many of us still stick closely to what we know. We read in the same niche. We buy from the same shelves. We follow the same authors, or ones just like them.
There’s nothing wrong with loving what you love. But now and then, it’s worth asking: What am I missing? And then, finding out.
What are you reading?
I’d love a book recommendation! The further outside the comfort zone, the better.