I have a bad habit of sticking with a book, even if I hate it. Til the very end. But sometimes, I just can’t. Here’s a list of the ones that I put down and never looked back…
- The Wild Trees by Richard Preston – a nonfiction look at people who climb really tall trees and explore life in the canopies. The writing was so horrible, like the author wanted to keep the reader on the edge of their seat, but didn’t know how.
- Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout – Pulitzer Prize winning book about life in a small town and people who were affected by the title character. Couldn’t get on board with the characters, they all seemed nasty.
- Tinkers by Paul Harding – Another Pulitzer Prize winner. zzzzzzzzzz
- Lord of Misrule by Jaimy Gordon – bleak world of horse racing in the smaller circuits. Again, despicable characters.
And while I haven’t officially quit the following books, they’ve been on my “currently reading list” for years…
- Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett – sweeping tale of building a cathedral in the middle ages.
- The Book Thief by Marcus Zusak – young adult fiction about a Jewish girl and Death, set during WW2
- No Angel by Penny Vincenzi – sweeping tale set during WW1 following a wealthy family and their soapy situations
- Packing for Mars by Mary Roach – nonfiction look at astronauts and the science of space
- The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet by David Mitchell – I have no idea. Something about Dutch colony in Japan.
And these are books I just straight up hated (yet finished)…
- Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen – these are the kinds of books that make me wonder who is in charge of publishing.
I thought of writing this post because I’m currently reading The Art of Fielding by Chad Harbach, and I’m really hating it. Not enough to quit, because the hating of it is too much fun, I want to constantly roll my eyes and critique each sentence choice, each character motivation, each decision the author makes. It’s too much fun to not enjoy this book. Maybe by the end of it, though, I’ll change my mind.
In fact, there’s a thought…any books that you couldn’t really get into, then by the end it was worth the journey? I know of only one that comes to mind, and in the last few pages, I would literally close the book, close my eyes, and swoon. Then re-open the book to find out what happened next: Cold Mountain by Charles Frazier. I even loved the movie version.