Warning: contains talking around in circles and strange questions

Sometimes, when I’m reading, I wonder why. Why I am reading, that is. I mean, if my life were a YA novel, (confusing, isn’t it?) there would be some sort of meaning to all this reading I do. Reading, for me, is more than just a hobby or pastime. I read for entertainment, escape, personal therapy, and information, among other things. But despite the vast amount of books I practically inhale, I don’t think I’ve ever found a true and perfect masterpiece—the Holy Grail of YA.

Yes, there are definitely some novels that come pretty darn close to perfect, and I may have even declared a couple of them to be “masterpieces” in my reviews, but I’ll be honest, if I keep thinking about said masterpieces, the more I realize that I was incorrect to label these books so. Yes, some books are amazing, spectacular, and nearly unforgettable, but all books have flaws, no matter how big or small. I’m not sure if it’s even possible for a story to be perfect.

Perfection is an unattainable standard, yet we (or some of us at least) struggle to achieve it anyhow. Sometimes, I wonder if I read to search for the perfect story. But at the same time, if I know the perfect story doesn’t exist, then why do I keep looking?

I once heard from a very smart person that fiction is often truer than non-fiction, and even though I wholeheartedly agree, isn’t fiction just an imitation of life itself? Readers are able to relate to fictional characters and situations generally because of their realistic qualities. And going by my definition of perfection being unreachable, especially in real life, are stories and novels just a reflection of that imperfection?

So, why do we write? Why do we read? Why is it human nature to always strive for the epitome of betterment? And is it all related, or do stories and perfection, or lack thereof, have nothing to do with each other?

I can hardly even answer my own questions. I think that for me personally, I read for truth like I live to experience, or maybe it’s the other way around. Or maybe I’m looking for something I can’t find, this perfection. But then again, since perfection has never been reached, how will I know what it is if/when I find it?

Enlightening thoughts, anyone?