After reading 59 pages and waiting five months for summoning up enough motivation to go on reading (all my Goodreads friends seem to love the book with abandon - so what's wrong with me?), I have decided to finally put a lid on the case and throw the book out of its designated and by this time slightly dusty spot on my nightstand. I had this subconscious fear that maybe I have detoriated and am not able to concentrate on "real" grown-up books anymore. All I seem to enjoy these days are young adult novels drenched in romance, coming-of-age-problems and/or magic or adults-targeted Urban Fantasy series' in the vein of "Kate Daniels'" or "Rachel Morgan's" neverending adventures. Thus the task of finishing "The Gargoyle" became a necessary proof of my still "intact" diverse reading habits (among my all-time favorites you will find works by Jane Austen, Charles Dickens, Haruki Murakami and Astrid Lindren). Today I realized that waiting until I am 40 will not do. Maybe I'll have switched to thrillers and detective stories by 2013. But who cares? All the stories I've consumed stay with me in bits and pieces and fleeting images. And what I choose to add to that conglomated blob of reading history at which time of my life does not define my maturity as a reader. Reading is just my favorite pasttime, not my job.
So, dear friends, please forgive me for not trying harder to get this book with its hidden gem of a love-story. I sincerely hope the hero's perfect face and much-needed penis will be presentable again at the end of the book. But finding out for myself takes too much effort. Maybe you will be my Scheherazade and treat me to a very condensed version? I am looking forward to meeting you in the chaiselogue corner.

Street Corner Bookers’ Pile Reduction Challenge, #12 (challenger: Kristy)