I've discovered that my habits and tendencies as a reader have changed over the last three or four years. I used to be more patient. I used to be more persistent with a book that I set out to read but then couldn't get through as easily as I expected to. I think this has to do with the end of the Harry Potter series. I devoured those seven books like a starved infant, and I'm quite sure that they also spoiled me. Since The Deathly Hallows, I've very rarely felt a sense of urgency with any book, that need to ignore sleep and meals until I know what happens next.
Wait. There was Gone Girl. Which reminds me: if you haven't read it already, do. You must.
If a book was turning out to be more laborious than I had expected, I used to be able to persevere. I didn't, and still don't think that it's right to abandon any book mid-read. If you start reading it, you must finish. It's disrespectful not to. When I was younger, there was only one that I abandoned -- and didn't feel the least bit guilty about it -- Chetan Bhagat's Five Point Someone. I tried to get through it twice, but I found it to be so stupendously boring that I simply couldn't find the will to keep going.
I still read, but not as feverishly as I used to. Everything I've read in the last couple of years, I've read slowly. And it wasn't because I wanted to take my time with it; process whatever I had read, mull it over and then resume reading. I simply don't think my attention span is what it used to be. It worries me. I used to be able to trudge through. I did that with The Fellowship of the Ring, when I realized that I was taking many, many days to get through the first 50 pages. I kept going, and it eventually became one of the books I've most enjoyed. I did that with One Hundred Years of Solitude. Most Marquez books take a while to get through, anyway.
I couldn't do it with One Thousand Chestnut Trees by Mira Stout, which I tried to read recently. I had never read a novel about Korea, and when it was gifted to me I was quite interested in sinking my teeth into it. And while the stories had a great deal of depth and the history that was being presented to me was fascinating, I found the subject matter to be too intense and simply wasn't interested in reading it every night before bed. Korea's history is tragic, and I found that despite how much I was learning as a reader and as a citizen of the world, I simply didn't want to read a book with such upsetting subject matter. So I abandoned it at the halfway point. I've since loaned it to my sister, and I doubt I'll pick it back up again anytime soon.
And yet, I recently finished reading Dan Brown's Inferno in a matter of days. I'm not a fan of the author; I find his writing inconsistent and, sometimes, annoying. But as someone who studied a portion of The Divine Comedy in college and who's generally interested in Dante, I dove into the novel and read all 461 pages in a matter of days.
I read The Cuckoo's Calling with no trouble at all. But then, that was written by J.K. Rowling. Again... I've been ruined.
Next on the list is all five parts of The Hitchhiker's Guide. Wish me luck.
Wait. There was Gone Girl. Which reminds me: if you haven't read it already, do. You must.
If a book was turning out to be more laborious than I had expected, I used to be able to persevere. I didn't, and still don't think that it's right to abandon any book mid-read. If you start reading it, you must finish. It's disrespectful not to. When I was younger, there was only one that I abandoned -- and didn't feel the least bit guilty about it -- Chetan Bhagat's Five Point Someone. I tried to get through it twice, but I found it to be so stupendously boring that I simply couldn't find the will to keep going.
I still read, but not as feverishly as I used to. Everything I've read in the last couple of years, I've read slowly. And it wasn't because I wanted to take my time with it; process whatever I had read, mull it over and then resume reading. I simply don't think my attention span is what it used to be. It worries me. I used to be able to trudge through. I did that with The Fellowship of the Ring, when I realized that I was taking many, many days to get through the first 50 pages. I kept going, and it eventually became one of the books I've most enjoyed. I did that with One Hundred Years of Solitude. Most Marquez books take a while to get through, anyway.
I couldn't do it with One Thousand Chestnut Trees by Mira Stout, which I tried to read recently. I had never read a novel about Korea, and when it was gifted to me I was quite interested in sinking my teeth into it. And while the stories had a great deal of depth and the history that was being presented to me was fascinating, I found the subject matter to be too intense and simply wasn't interested in reading it every night before bed. Korea's history is tragic, and I found that despite how much I was learning as a reader and as a citizen of the world, I simply didn't want to read a book with such upsetting subject matter. So I abandoned it at the halfway point. I've since loaned it to my sister, and I doubt I'll pick it back up again anytime soon.
And yet, I recently finished reading Dan Brown's Inferno in a matter of days. I'm not a fan of the author; I find his writing inconsistent and, sometimes, annoying. But as someone who studied a portion of The Divine Comedy in college and who's generally interested in Dante, I dove into the novel and read all 461 pages in a matter of days.
I read The Cuckoo's Calling with no trouble at all. But then, that was written by J.K. Rowling. Again... I've been ruined.
Next on the list is all five parts of The Hitchhiker's Guide. Wish me luck.
