Books are Magic Carpets

I grew up in England in a family that read extensively. I was fed a steady diet of Enid Blyton books about upper class white kids having adventures like running away to the circus, or solving crimes; all while on their summer holidays from their expensive boarding schools. The lives of these characters bore no parallels to mine. Yet I loved to read those books.
Why do we read fiction?
I read it to be lifted out of my everyday life and transported to a world where things I would not ordinarily experience can happen while I watch, feel and take part emotionally in the adventure. A recent review of my first book Precious Jade pointed out a couple-- perhaps even several-- implausible plot devices. But the lady gave the book four stars and a said she loved it. God bless her!
A piece of fiction does not have to be realistic to be great. I recently read Asylum by Patrick McGrath. The prose was brilliant. The story was compelling and utterly plausible. By the time I got to end, I seriously needed a drink. It was so damn depressing.
Years ago I read a romance novel where the heroine and hero were in such conflict that the only they could get together and do the nasty was if she lost her memory and then regained it after the act. She did this several times during the book. It was ridiculous. It was great! I loved the book and could not put it down,
A dear friend of mine runs the library in a small town and we were chatting about the books the kids take out. There are a few modern, politically correct books on hand about divorce, same-sex parents and disability. Then there are the books that adults complain about—the Enid Blyton books I grew up on. Minorities are not represented and all the kids are healthy and from two parent, wealthy families. I asked which books were most popular with the kids and she said the Enid Blytons. No one wants to sit down with a book depicting the ordinary sameness of their lives. They want adventure. They want to be transported.
As a child my favourite secret fantasy was that I had a magic carpet and could fly all over the world to any country and meet all kinds of fascinating people.
Books are magic carpets.