July 19, 2005

Biblio-ADD

I can't decide what my problem is. For the most part, I've been good about finishing the books I start (The Fountainhead being a major exception, but good God, people, no one actually finishes that thing, do they? Well, do they? Wait, never mind. I really don't want to know.) Lately, I just can't seem to settle on anything.

I'm currently in the midst of Atonement, a good book that I should've finished long ago. Why am I still slogging through such a short book? I dunno. It seems that the culprit could be: (1) I'm not ready to read this book right now; (2) The second half of the book isn't as good as the first; (3) I've read so many books that it takes a lot more to pique my interest these days; (4) I've got too much going on in the rest of my life to really focus on the book; (5) It just ain't my kind of book.

(1) is plausible, though it doesn't feel right. This has happened to me before -- there have been times when I just wasn't ready at that particular time in my life to read a specific book, but when I picked it up six months or a year later, I read it, loved it, and couldn't figure out why I never read it sooner. Case in point: The Secret History by Donna Tartt. This is one of my all-time favorite books, and I didn't even get halfway through it until the third try. It isn't because it was a bad book (it was fabulous) or that it was too long (it wasn't), it is just a very dark book and I was in a fairly dark place in my life when I tried to read it, so things just didn't work out. Later on, when I cheered up, I came to my senses. That doesn't seem to be the case with Atonement, primarily because I don't dread reading it (like I do any time I try to read Joyce Carol Oates. Ugh.) and I'm more than halfway through already.

(2) is a good contender. The first half of the book was much more fast-paced and interesting, and is where most of the action is. That's not to say I'm just a sucker for speed, but I do need something to keep me going (though I managed to make it through most of Salinger's books, all of which have zero action beyond moving from the bathroom to the living room, but that's a whole other kettle of fish).

(3) would be great if it were true, but even as much as I like to read, I'm not enough of a literary snob to cop to this one. When I can quote Ulysses and spend my free time expounding upon all of the more-obscure-than-Dennis-Miller-references quotes from Umberto Eco, then I'll be able to claim this one. I still read trashy magazines, people.

(4) This one just may be our winner. I've gots lots on the proverbial plate right now, none of which I care to divulge (or else I'd be writing about that instead of my book constipation).

(5) I don't know about five. This is a solid maybe, but it could be that, as I said in (1), it just might be a bad time to read it. Who knows?

I've been thinking about this in light of the Harry Potter mania going on. I've read the first three and a half Harry Potter books, all of which I loved. I started the fourth and after about 150 pages said, "eh." I haven't picked it up since. The point, though, is that I want to love that book. I really want to find a book right now that sucks me in makes me love it, and that just hasn't happened. Maybe I'm asking too much of a book. Or maybe books are like relationships -- most are fine, quiet, almost routine encounters that sustain us but don't inspire us, and a few walk into our lives at the perfect moments and inspire us, reach us and make us realize what we've been missing.

Or maybe I just need to find a more interesting book.

Posted by Kitty at July 19, 2005 02:32 PM

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