The latest “Woman-to-Woman” column “Harm in reading romance novels?” got me thinking about illusions versus reality. (I generally find the Woman-to-woman columns to be staged issues with very little debate occurring, and this one is no exception.)
In the end of the column, the suggestion made was to remember that novels are fiction, not reality. Well, of course. I am not disappointed that my life is not a novel. Just as I don’t judge whether my house looks good based on the Pottery Barn catalog that comes in the mail. And I don’t judge my kids’ appearances based on the Hanna Andersson catalog. We live in the real world, not in a catalog. I don’t want a plastic perfect house, and I don’t want plastic perfect kids.
However, I don’t resign myself to living the life I am living. I have goals and dreams. But they are realistic ones, not impossible ones guided by the fantasy worlds created in magazines and books.
