When you’re 50 pages in and hating every syllable what’s a bibliophile to do? Do you keep reading, hoping that some new wisdom will penetrate your cranium? Or do you quit and accept that it’s just not meant to be?
I like to think I’m not a quitter. I try to give authors and their books a chance, after all that’s all we want as writers (aside from JK Rowling level fame.)
Most of the time I manage to get through, but I have met with some books I had to give up on.
Ullysses by James Joice, read half way, still have no idea what it’s about, but I think someone has a bath.
Moby Dick by Herman Melville, read the spark notes, blagged the exam, continue to refer to myself as Captain Ahab.
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austin, I know. I feel bad, but a little bit not.
I read one article earlier this week that advocated powering through books you hate like a sadist. The argument was that it made you a better critic and would help you to establish a stronger understanding of your own values. Then I watched a vblog about how it’s okay to toss them aside. We’ll never read all of the books in the world so what makes reading some more important than others.
I’d love to hear what you do? Is it so many pages then you put the book down. Or do you drag your brain kicking and screaming til the end? Do you punish yourself for giving up and promise you’ll try again another day?
What books have you given up on? (I may read them for you. In exchange for you telling me which silks Mrs Bennett went for in the end.)
Let me know in the comments!