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I expect that I'm odd, but it has been working the other way round with me. I'm now impatient with books that I had time for when a teenager, when I was an omniverous reader.
I was once fond of the more arcane works of Frederick William Rolfe ('Baron Corvo'). I still like some of them but the Borgia novel is now unreadable. I am now only mildly interested in Tennyson, but used to like him a lot.
The same has happened with music. Recently someone put on a Strawbs album. How did I ever like such pretentious drivel?
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