I don’t quite understand a fiction book whose point is that people who read fiction books are messed up because they read fiction books. Are you full of self-loathing? Do you think your fiction book is somehow better than other fiction books? “No, no,” you say, “my fiction book is different because it exposes those other fiction books as unreal and changing people’s expectations of the world from something reasonable to something over the top.” Um, ok. Whatever.
Clearly, I didn’t get into Madame Bovary – which is about a woman whose reading screws with her expectations of what her life will really be like. Your milage may vary – it is a classic after all.