Although being sick is always a pain, there’s a silver lining — being stuck in bed gives me the chance to binge read. And when I’m sick the way I’ve been for the last two days, I binge read romance novels.

The latest series that I’ve gotten my hands on is about the humans left behind on an alien world, over 350 years after the first colonists from Earth landed. 

It’s sci-fi on a small scale — about individual lives (which I like) — combined with sex. Lots and lots of sex. 

And in this series of books, the sex involved tentacles.

I’m always amused when I read about sex between humans and weird creatures. Kraken with eight tentacles, satyrs with two cocks, horned aliens, were-dragons. It’s weird and delicious at the same time. 

What’s most striking to me though, is that even when the stories shift into the “monster’s” perspective, there’s still something relatable in there. 

Although the characters are varied and no, I don’t see myself in the characters, I am still able to slip into their skins for the duration of the book, maybe even feel what they’re feeling. 

Besides the pleasure of diving head-first into a story, reading fiction helps me to understand that people are complex. They do the things they do for different reasons. 

That while I may not agree with a certain approach, I could possibly appreciate the end goal that they’re aiming for. 

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