Not too long ago, I found myself reminiscing about my first experience at a Las Vegas buffet. Towering trays of international dishes, countless stations offering endless variety—it was overwhelming, yet thrilling. My first encounter with such gastronomic abundance left a lasting impression, one that would later shape an unexpected part of my life: the way I read.
That initial buffet happened in my mid-twenties when I visited my aunt in Vegas. Growing up, buffets weren’t foreign to me—my dad was a big fan of The Golden Corral. But nothing prepared me for the sensory overload of a Vegas-style spread. Years later, when my husband and I were married in Las Vegas, we held our wedding reception at The Buffet at Wynn. With options to satisfy every dietary preference and cultural background, even my vegan parents were spoiled for choice. Two decades on, my dad still fondly declares it the best wedding reception he’s ever attended.
That buffet memory has stayed with me not just because of the food, but because of what it represented: freedom, abundance, and the joy of choice. And recently, it helped me reshape the way I view my reading life.
Rethinking the Way We Read
Anne Bogel and Ginger Horton, in an episode of What Should I Read Next?, described their book club as a buffet. That metaphor stopped me in my tracks. A buffet? For books? The more I thought about it, the more it resonated. The Modern Mrs Darcy Book Club offers members a smorgasbord of literary options: monthly selections, discussion forums, author interviews, journaling sessions, and personal dispatches from Anne and her team. Participants can dive in as deeply—or as lightly—as they choose.
That’s when I realized: I’ve been approaching my reading life like a fixed menu when it could have been a buffet all along.
From Restriction to Freedom
Growing up, choice wasn’t something I had much of. Meals were scheduled and limited. Snacking was off-limits. Fiction? Rarely permitted. I read the books I was “supposed” to read and avoided the ones I “shouldn’t.” I never considered quitting a book midway. That wasn’t allowed—literally or mentally.
But hearing the buffet analogy gave me permission to question that old mindset. For the first time, I began to see reading not as a chore or a checklist, but as a table laid out just for me—full of stories, knowledge, and experiences I was free to explore or ignore.
The First Pass: Gathering What Looks Good
Like at a buffet, my first round is about curiosity. I scan what’s available, noting what sparks interest. My plate always includes potatoes; in my reading life, that translates to memoirs, inspirational self-help, and anything related to writers or writing. My go-to sources—recommendations from Anne, staff picks at my local bookstore, and bookish chatter from my favorite authors—serve as my personal buffet stations.
But I don’t stop at comfort food. I also scoop up a few intriguing, unfamiliar dishes—titles or genres I wouldn’t usually choose. The buffet lowers the stakes. If I don’t love something, I simply don’t go back for more.
This has led to surprising discoveries. I once believed science fiction and fantasy weren’t “for me.” But then I sampled a book like A Psalm for the Wild-Built and fell head over heels. It was just the right amount of whimsy and depth. On the other hand, A Court of Thorns and Roses—with its elaborate world-building—left me overwhelmed. I stopped halfway. And for the first time, I was okay with not finishing.
The Power of Permission
Thinking of my reading life as a buffet has given me something I never had before: permission. Permission to try something new. Permission to stop reading a book I don’t enjoy. Permission to define “worthwhile reading” on my own terms.
There’s a certain liberation that comes from knowing the choice is yours. It can feel terrifying, especially if you grew up in a more structured or restrictive environment. But it’s also empowering. The buffet is vast. You will not read it all. But you can decide what you want, when you want it, and how much of it to consume.
Sampling with Intention
Of course, abundance can have its downside—choice overload is real. But just like navigating a real buffet, intention helps. I don’t pile everything on my plate at once. I take small servings, return for seconds when something delights me, and leave room for surprises.
By allowing myself to explore gently and selectively, I’ve discovered genres I once dismissed, authors I’d never heard of, and ideas I didn’t know I needed. I’ve also developed the confidence to say “no, thank you” when something doesn’t nourish me.
A New Way to Read
So now, my reading life mirrors that Vegas buffet—abundant, joyful, and full of possibilities. I’m no longer confined to a narrow menu of “approved” titles. Instead, I get to roam, taste, discard, indulge, and delight in whatever calls to me.
For those of you still stuck in the mindset of literary obligation, I offer this: Imagine your reading life as a buffet. Endless options. No judgment. Just discovery. What will you try next?
And if you don’t like it? Push it aside. There’s always another dish waiting to surprise you.
After all, a reading life full of freedom, curiosity, and abundance isn’t just more delicious—it’s more fulfilling.
