Is There a Problem Here, or Is It Just Me?
Right now I’m reading a novel that isn’t grabbing me. I feel like it should, because it’s an interesting premise, and the writing itself is serviceable.
Some of my apathy is due to the fact that I initially had trouble grabbing hold of the story’s central conceit, and even now after catching on to what the author is doing, I keep expecting to be pulled in to the story, yet I’m not.
Which leaves me with the question: is the book failing, or is it just me?
Back in college, on my own initiative, I read Oliver Twist. I hated it. Ten years later I decided to give it another go. Still hated it. Fifteen years after that, I gave the big-eyed, pale-faced orphan one more shot. And this time I was thoroughly charmed.
Excuse me, sir, may I have some more plot?
What happened? Dickens hadn’t come along and updated the plot. There weren’t suddenly superheroes involved or abandoned kittens. The book hadn’t changed one bit, so it must have been me.
All I can figure is that my baggage was getting in the way. I come to books with certain expectations, and if the author satisfies them or exceeds them, then I am thoroughly caught up.
But that must not always be the case. Typically I read on my commute to work. But lately I have been too restless to read for very long. And this current book has been difficult to pick up. Is that due to the book’s shortcomings or my own distractibility?
In other words, if I were to approach this book in another ten years, would I have a different reaction to it?
This morning I feel like I cheated because I checked out some reviews on GoodReads. Many were very favorable, and lots of 4 and 5 star reviews. But those who gave lower ratings mentioned the very issues I have been struggling with – that despite an intriguing premise, the characters weren’t terribly engaging.
So, now I’m wondering if it’s the book, or maybe I’m just not a fan. Even if I have a limited capacity as an engaged reader, I definitely want to give the book a fair chance.
But the more I ponder these questions, the more I recognize that, bottom line, I’m bored, and it’s only tenacity that will get me to the end.
I’m glad the author has other fans. Right now I guess I’m not one.
Some of my apathy is due to the fact that I initially had trouble grabbing hold of the story’s central conceit, and even now after catching on to what the author is doing, I keep expecting to be pulled in to the story, yet I’m not.
Which leaves me with the question: is the book failing, or is it just me?
Back in college, on my own initiative, I read Oliver Twist. I hated it. Ten years later I decided to give it another go. Still hated it. Fifteen years after that, I gave the big-eyed, pale-faced orphan one more shot. And this time I was thoroughly charmed.
Excuse me, sir, may I have some more plot?What happened? Dickens hadn’t come along and updated the plot. There weren’t suddenly superheroes involved or abandoned kittens. The book hadn’t changed one bit, so it must have been me.
All I can figure is that my baggage was getting in the way. I come to books with certain expectations, and if the author satisfies them or exceeds them, then I am thoroughly caught up.
But that must not always be the case. Typically I read on my commute to work. But lately I have been too restless to read for very long. And this current book has been difficult to pick up. Is that due to the book’s shortcomings or my own distractibility?
In other words, if I were to approach this book in another ten years, would I have a different reaction to it?
This morning I feel like I cheated because I checked out some reviews on GoodReads. Many were very favorable, and lots of 4 and 5 star reviews. But those who gave lower ratings mentioned the very issues I have been struggling with – that despite an intriguing premise, the characters weren’t terribly engaging.
So, now I’m wondering if it’s the book, or maybe I’m just not a fan. Even if I have a limited capacity as an engaged reader, I definitely want to give the book a fair chance.
But the more I ponder these questions, the more I recognize that, bottom line, I’m bored, and it’s only tenacity that will get me to the end.
I’m glad the author has other fans. Right now I guess I’m not one.
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