Even though I know it’s not the truth, I still feel like the only failure in the world to not finish reading a book. I feel ashamed to disclose whatever reasons I may have for not completing an entire book. My reasons may be ridiculous to other people. I can’t begin to describe the feelings of unworthiness and incompetence as a reader when I leave a book unfinished, and I have no idea why I am like this. I mean, I’m comfortable with other ridiculous things that I do so why not this one?
Like I’ve said a billions times on this blog(that may be slightly exaggerated), I am a lover of storytelling. When I say this, it means I appreciate all stories. They’ve taken birth from somewhere special and was conveyed in a way that maybe we can’t always see fit but the author does see the magic in their writing. And that to me, is special. To us it may be easy to nitpick an author’s work but to them, they know why everything happened the way it did and why everyone is the way they are.
I do leave negative reviews in a sense. I don’t always love a character or a story line, or the unnecessary clutter in a book and I do elaborate on it in a review which is fine. It’s not blatant hate of an author, it’s just feedback. Yet I feel so guilt-ridden when I can’t finish the story or even care to know what happens.
Most recently was The Sun is Also a Star by Nicola Yoon. I’m sure it was a fine book to the audience that it catered too. I felt like it would’ve been an interesting book after I heard a review on it but after a hundred or so pages, I just couldn’t do it anymore. It was just not for me. There’s still a niggling voice in my head that’s telling me I have to eventually finish this book, which I dread, but I may have to comply at some point.
xo Coffee Doll