This week, something rare happened. I was in the mood to read sci-fi.

Not unheard of, just rare, especially in the warmer months. I can’t be the only seasonal/mood reader, right? Thrillers ring my bell all year ‘round, but fluffy chicklit, contemporaries, and books of that nature dominate my TBR during spring and summer. Historical fiction, sci-fi, and fantasy rule the colder months. But, something even weirder happened.

For the first time in a long time, I didn’t have an array of TBR-provided choices to scratch my sci-fi itch. (In fairness, most of my sci-fi stuff is now consumed in comic format. And in fairness, I’ve read most of it already.) I was digging through one of my four nightstand piles when I found it. (It’s okay, I know you’re not judging me for having four stacks and several shelves’ worth of unread books.) Tom Perrotta’s The Leftovers. I’d meant to read it a long time ago, so I could hop on the HBO show’s bandwagon, but never got around to it. I checked on Goodreads* and found it was categorized as sci-fi and dystopia. (*Cheerfully ignoring the reviews, which ranged from middling to frustrated.)