Changing Tastes in Authors

It always strikes me as weird when I decide that I no longer like certain authors. Perhaps I have just grown jaded as I've gotten older, but authors that I remember reading and enjoying have often lost their appeal to me. Maybe they're writing has grown stale, maybe they were never any good in the first place, or maybe I'm jut older and wiser (hah, tell that to my wife) and I've learned something.

This doesn't mean I won't pick up one of their books, but it does mean that I rarely enjoy reading them like I did when I was younger. There seems to be far more I can write better than that thinking going on. The latest example is R.A. Salvatore's The Ancient. I can remember when I first picked up The Crystal Shard, I was engrossed in Salvatore's action scenes. I still think he does a good job of technically describing what is going on in his battles; you can tell that he has thought through the physical give and take. The problem is that is has become the literary equivalent of a Steven Segal movie, every movie good ol' Steve broke someone's (or three) arm with the same tired ass slow move, and now I feel the same about Salvatore's fights. The detail has lost its pizazz.

The story isn't that bad, its just little things bother me now that I probably glossed over before. Maybe I'm just finally growing up but it makes it hell for enjoying the things you enjoyed when you were younger.