I just stopped reading another book. Actually I stopped reading it days ago, and I just now realized I won’t start again. It’s been sitting beside my bed, and I’ve picked up several things since, neglecting this pretty blue cover I found so appealing in the store.
I’m feeling cranky about this, because it’s such a highly praised book, and this makes me worry that I’m a “bad reader”. I already feel guilty about all the other so-called great books I never finished. Madame Bovary, Moby Dick, An Instance of the Fingerpost, to name a few. Now The Sparrow. I’ve probably stopped reading some fiction you loved. Don’t hate me for it. Just help me figure out why. As an aspiring novelist who’s had my share of manuscripts go unfinished by editors, I have a vested interest in knowing why we don’t finish reading books. It’s a mystery I feel compelled to get to the bottom of.
That may be exactly the point—feeling compelled to get to the bottom of something. All those books I didn’t finish went unfinished because I had no need or desire to know how they turned out.
Sometimes it’s a character. I can’t be the only reader in history who came to detest Emma Bovary. It began when, soon after her marriage to the nice but dull doctor, she showed her initial signs of boredom. The last straw was neglecting her baby. I tried, I really did, before I got so exasperated I wanted to strangle her. Mothers who can’t work up any affection for their own children don’t work for me as protagonists. Don’t we see enough of this in real life? Didn’t Flaubert, even in his time? Must I really live inside this rotten person’s head, for the length of a novel? I choose not to. If you don’t want children, don’t have them. Oh, Madame Bovary lived in a time when women had no choice? Too bad. It’s no excuse to blame the baby.
—Give me at least one sympathetic character, and let me spend time with him or her.
—Self-absorbed self-pity isn’t pretty in a protagonist.
Pointless revenge doesn’t work for me, either. The whale that cost Ahab his body part was simply a spectacular animal, whom Ahab was trying to kill at the time he was injured. Ahab’s quest for revenge was pointless. He wasn’t likely to get his limb back, after all, or anything else he’d lost to that whale, yet he wasted his entire life chasing after this beast. And Ishmael went along for the ride. Why? As an animal-loving girl growing up in the sixties and seventies, I knew the whale was endangered, and I knew why. That bothered me a great deal, in fact it bothered me that we were assigned a story about whalers. I know, I know, they weren’t endangered when he wrote it. Still, literature is supposed to stand the test of time. This story doesn’t. I think, even if I’d read this book before whales were endangered, I wouldn’t have finished it. I loved The Encantadas, though.
—If you’re going to seek revenge, make me care about what you’re avenging, and convince me you’re trying to prevent others from meeting the same fate, not dragging them all with you to their doom.
An Instance of the Fingerpost is a tough one for me to criticize, because I’m scared of offending readers who loved this book, and the author is living, so I might anger him, his publisher, his agent and—you get my drift. This is the reason I don’t usually review books I don’t finish. I’m trying to sell my writing to the very people who published the book I didn’t like enough to finish. I love Iain Pears’ writing. In fact I love Melville’s and Flaubert’s. Perhaps convincing me to not like these characters and events was precisely their goal, and that possibility causes a large part of my “bad reader” guilt. With Fingerpost, it wasn’t the difficulty of reading or length of the book that caused a problem for me. After all, I finished and enjoyed The Name of the Rose. But when I’m fairly certain an innocent person is about to be hanged, and no one lifts a finger to prevent it, I have trouble focusing on the costumes and historical detail of the period, and I especially loathe the self-serving class snobbery and vanity of the people who ought to be saving the innocent from the noose. I’m not positive I remember this story correctly. But if memory serves, I’d just gotten to the point where I’d given up hope of saving the condemned person, when the author changed viewpoint characters and started all over from the beginning. With a less likable point of view character. I know there was a message here, the whole bit about class, the fact that a lowly servant person would be punished even if he or she were innocent. But the message was too obvious, and if I’m going to like any of the characters, at least one must rise above such social idiocy.
—If you’re using multiple viewpoint characters, start interchanging them at the beginning of the story, or at least make them likable, if I must spend a third of the story with each one
—Tell the story chronologically. A flashback here and there is okay, but don’t keep starting over from the beginning. (Again, I may be remembering this wrong.)
—Someone should save the innocent person, or at least try to.
—If editors won’t let me write books that are too long, no one should get to. 
Finally we come to The Sparrow. I love this author’s writing. But I’m not finishing this book. Brilliant as the author may be, we don’t seem to be going anywhere with the story, and I’m already a third of the way in. It’s supposed to be science fiction, but where’s the science? Where’s the fiction, for that matter—the story? The technology is all told, not shown, and the characters, though delightful, are too perfect. I have trouble swallowing the Catholic Church buying a mined-out asteroid to send this too mutually affectionate and appreciative group to another solar system on a whim, and then virtually imprisoning the lone survivor when he returns, for I know not what reason. Hasn’t he been through enough? Actually I don’t know what he’s been through. That information is withheld, and I’ve grown impatient. I have trouble believing a mined-out asteroid can be made into a spaceship at all. Show me how that’s done, show me what it looks like. How do you land the thing? Or do you? Show me even a hint of the method by which the specialist Sofia Mendes translates peoples’ life work into artificial intelligence programs. There’s too much time spent on characterization and beating around the core issues of the story. The science is sadly neglected, or simply mentioned in passing. This is speculative fiction, but all I’m given is speculation. I’m not convinced, and I’m a third of the way through the book without more than a glimpse of an alien, in a brief flashback, and that was just its eyes. Listen, my cat has strangely beautiful eyes.
In Shadows Fall I described Peter Lloyd’s threadbare fishing vest as being held together by its pockets. That’s how I feel about The Sparrow. It has a thin, uncomplicated plot held together by lots of brilliant characterization that seems to go nowhere. There’s no conflict. The pieces of the story fall together for the characters without anyone having to fight for them. Solutions materialize too easily, overnight, or off the page, with sizable monetary gifts from secret benefactors. The main character suffers, but I’m not convinced of that either. At least this is my view, one-third in, and I’m not at all certain I should bother going on. There are so many other books to read. This one seems to be all backstory.
—Don’t give me too many sympathetic characters, described but never shown as courageous, sharing an easy friendship, being handed everything they need and filling their time with witty banter.
—Please, please, no more celibate priests falling in love.
—Show me the science or technology-even if it’s fantasy. Show me the extraterrestrials and their world. Show me the space ship. Show me some of this by the time I’m one-third into the story. I already visited Arecibo with Carl Sagan, in Contact. Show me something I don’t know-or expect.
Have I become jaded? Is this all a matter of personal taste? (Or sour grapes?) If you liked these books, I’d love to hear why. Maybe you’ll convince me to finish one or more of them.
I’m sure my favorite authors have committed some of these same fictional crimes. It seems to me Mary Stewart’s Thornyhold started out with some lengthy backstory. But then she performed her magic, showing me a man and a woman falling in love, without even touching, in just a few conversations. I explored her aunt’s old house with her, and witnessed a neighbor dabbling in witchcraft. I was there, I believed it, and I cared how the story worked out. Now I long to reread an old favorite.
What makes you stop reading a story?
1.
There’s no need to feel guilty about not finishing a book, however highly acclaimed. Life is too short to waste on something you are not enjoying and anyway, there are lots of reasons why you might not be getting on with it. You can always come back to it later.
Years ago, it took me half a dozen false starts before I really got stuck into Crime and Punishment. Once it clicked I flew through it and loved it. More recently I’ve tried and failed twice with Monica Ali’s Brick Lane, which everybody I know raves about. It’s not a bad book, it’s just that I wasn’t in the mood for that kind of book at the time, and I can always return to it later. Though it’s not compulsory.
Hope that helps!
Comment by Rosalind — March 27, 2005 @ 3:20 am
2.
Wow! Sheeee’s baaaaack! Enjoyed your last two blogettes – meant to respond with quips like taxes can be taxing, or I’ve sprung into spring, and stuff like that.
I’m a stubborn old fool – once I pick up a book, I finish it – with one exception. Possession by A.S. Byatt. Quite a few years back, a person I esteem gave me his copy – raved about it. At that time in my life I was gloriously running with a shallow, fun-loving, bratty group in Laguna Beach where I lived for 18 years. Frank was, still is, a Hollywood big person, but doesn’t have a molecule of flash in him. We connected with books and enjoyed the friendship they brought us. Then he gave me Possession. He wrote me a letter while flying back from Europe after cinching a deal. Yes, it was before email, which we do now. God, I miss correspondence by stamp. Anyway, he considered it the finest book ever written. The pressure was on. I’m sure it’s a brilliant tale – Gwyneth Paltrow even starred in its screen version, and I happen to like her, despite naming her baby Apple. I put the book down after re-starting it 3 times, because I simply got lost and didn’t know what the heck was happening. I really can’t think of any other book I’ve stopped reading, but that doesn’t make me a better reader – just a stubborn reader.
Sometimes I am tempted to put books down like a horse because the writing is sooooo bad. This doesn’t happen but maybe once a year because I am pretty selective. And sometimes I think I need to read bad stuff to know how I don’t want to write, if that makes any sense. Storyline never stops me – bad writing brings me close.
Interestingly, my son gave me Madame Bovary for Christmas. I’ve been whittling away at a stack of books and have moved it to the top as the result of your essay. Last year he hounded me to read Chopin’s The Awakening and that was a dandy. Will let you know how I fare with Madame.
I’m currently reading Homework by Margot Livesey. Other authors in my stack are Tony Earley, Richard Bausch, Mark Winegardner, Alice McDermott, Jill McCorkle and John Casey. I know I won’t be disappointed.
I recently finished Running with Scissors by Burroughs. Raw stuff, but amazing writing.
Don’t fret about your selectivity. You are maximizing your time, prioritizing. Nothing wrong with that. I’ve probably wasted too many hours groaning through books.
Oh, I actually love the name Apple.
Comment by Reenie — March 27, 2005 @ 7:32 am
3.
Join a book club. About a year ago another woman and I started one in our community. Without fail every member mentions, at one time or another, that they wouldn’t have read or finished one of our choices on their own. Knowing you’re expected to contribute intelligently to a discussion about a book is an excellent spur to finishing it. Although we didn’t explicitly state the club’s intention to be a critique rather than a social group, that’s how it has evolved. One member comes across town to attend, although there is a group where she lives (they talk about knitting), and another commutes from a city to the north to join us when he can.
I think dropping a book when reading on your own can have several causes: it doesn’t interest you for innumerable reasons, there are too many other reads waiting (I’m up to eight waiting to be reviewed), you just read something similar. The latter has happened to me with Marilyn French’s “Her Mother’s Daughter”. I’d been going through a spate of multi-generational females’ tales, mother-daughter relationships, and suddenly I’ve burned out on the subject. I’ll shelve the book and come back to it another day (year, more likely).
Say, this comment thingie needs a “Preview” button. I can’t edit in a four line window!
Comment by Georganna Hancock — March 27, 2005 @ 9:54 am
4.
Very interesting essay. If I get past the first chapter I usually tough the book out, but sometimes the first couple pages defeat me. Proust, for example. Usually with me it is an unreadable style that stops me cold. Finnegan’s Wake is another example. But I like Alain Robbe Grillet so go figure. I read a couple books by Sharon McCrumb all the way through even though I was horrified as it gradually dawned on me that the most obnoxious characters in the things (to me, mind you) were the ones the author approved of and the reader was supposed to sympathize with. Back in my sf reading days I even read, in its entirely, Samuel R. Delany’s Dhalgren. That experience decided me. You might have to suffer for your art but you don’t have to suffer for someone’s else’s art.
Comment by Eric Mayer — March 27, 2005 @ 1:43 pm
5.
Rosalind,
That’s exactly it, I reach a point where I realize I’m not enjoying myself and I’m struggling too hard to stay in the story. I decide life’s just too short. Sometimes it happens with an author whose other work I like. Other times it puts me off an author entirely, though I usually give anyone at least a second chance. There are books I know I’ll eventually finish, but haven’t yet tried at the right time for me. Anna Karenina is one I’ve started three times, and know I’ll eventually read through when I’m in the right frame of mind. I love the language and the story, but it’s a type of reading that requires a certain commitment I haven’t yet made.
Reenie,
I’m stubborn about lots of things, but with books I guess I’m not. The surprising thing about Madame Bovary is her popularity—if you read the 100 Favorite Fictional Characters list, linked on Bill Crider’s blog, March 7, Emma Bovary appears as a favorite character on the list twice. So I’m sure I’m in a minority. I hope you enjoy Madame Bovary.
Apple: Well, I do love apples. The apple of her mother’s eye?
Georganna,
You remind me that when I was very young—eight, I think—and had trouble finishing books, I joined the library’s summer reading program, and I started finishing books right and left.
Yes, I’m looking at doing something about the comment window, if only enlarging it a bit. My last upgrade turned it puny. Sorry about that.
Eric,
“You might have to suffer for your art but you don’t have to suffer for someone’s else’s art.”
Ah, you hit on a profound truth. If I walk by a painting in a gallery or museum, I don’t feel that I have to stand staring at it for long if I don’t like it. I move on. Of course there was the time I fell in love with a small blue Chinese dog statue in a museum, and I wanted it so badly, if I weren’t an honest person I’d have embarked on a life of crime then and there. Talk about suffering for art!
Comment by Barbara W. Klaser — March 27, 2005 @ 3:09 pm
6.
I think we stop for a variety of reasons. Sometimes it’s pressures of our life intruding and making it difficult to concentrate. Sometimes the story doesn’t work, the writer’s use of language jars us, or it simply isn’t our cup of tea. Writing and reading are subjective. You’re not going to respond well to every book that is acclaimed or not held in high regard, just as you will find some works wondrous while others claim it’s just plain horrid.
I do think it’s a good policy for a writer to try and understand why they didn’t like a book or finish a book, but it’s certainly nothing to feel guilty about. There are many books out there that have been held up as standards that simply don’t work for me. I try to figure out why-but I don’t lose sleep over it-and then move on.
Keep reading!
Comment by vikk — March 28, 2005 @ 7:09 am
7.
I occasionally cannot finish a book. Your essay prompted me to think about why. Usually I say, “It’s boring.” But that does not really describe what’s going on (or not, as the case may be).
1. Stuff happens, descriptions made and so forthe, not germane to the book. Sub-plots and descriptive asides which do not forward the action or enhance the plot are useless blind alleys and often just take up space. This also applies to re-descriptions which provide nothing new, they just tell me over again what I was just told. I wish, I wish authors would read their books out loud. And then remove sections of which they are fond, beautifully written even, but have no real connection to characters or plot. Save them for another novel.
2. Proselytization turns me off, even when the preaching concerns something close to my heart. Example: Orson Scott Card and his preoccupation with death in combat, death by execution, death by accident, mercy killing, etc. etc. Every single story and novel Ender’s Game[1986] has revolved around the above issues. Enough, already. Actually, he’s such a good author that I finally finished the last book (Crystal City), but I’ll never read another of his.
See my post of 03/13/05, if you’re interested.
Comment by Sarah — March 28, 2005 @ 9:56 am
8.
Life is short. And there are a lot of books out there that are really good. I usually give up a book if I can’t get into it in the first 100 pages. It doesn’t happen too often, but on occassion.
I do belong to a book review group, and have read books that I wouldn’t have chosen if left to my own decisions. And I’ve really benefited from the experience. But I did have one book that I didn’t finish for that group. I just plain didn’t like it.
My suggestion is to carry on - and read what you like.
Comment by cassie-b — March 28, 2005 @ 12:37 pm
9.
Hi Barbara — I’ve never been able to stomach anything by Melville; I find both his writing and his symbolism to be dull and overwrought. However, I loved In the Heart of the Sea, which is an account of the real whale attack that inspired Melville to write Moby Dick. I had to read Madame Bovary in 11th-grade French class; no choice there. It wasn’t one of my favorites, but I didn’t hate it. I have An Instance of the Fingerpost but have never read it. I did finish Possession by A.S. Byatt, and don’t really feel like a better person for the experience. Although I adored The Name of the Rose, I haven’t liked anything else by Umberto Eco enough to keep the book(s) open.
What makes me stop reading? I am usually compelled by sheer Yankee stubbornness to keep plodding my way through until I find a book to be unbearable (the Titus Groan books come to mind). Sometimes the characters are so unsympathetic that I can’t muster up enough caring to see what they’re going to do next. Sometimes it’s bad scholarship (I did finish The Da Vinci Code, but was disgusted with it). I also find that when an author’s style gets in the way of his story, I grow both unimpressed and disenchanted, and will put the book down.
Do you know what happened to writer’s block (Dysfunctional Thoughts)? Her blog is gone, and Blogger says “Not Found.” I hope this is a temporary glitch…
Comment by blogdog — March 29, 2005 @ 5:05 pm
10.
Thought I’d check you out after reading your comment at blogdog. I’m looking for new places to visit! Though I have not read any of the books you talk about in your post, I have some thoughts on why we stop reading. Since we are now adults, we are not impelled to read anything we don’t like. Yes, I know the time spent getting into a book seems like a wasted investment if we don’t finish the book, but there are SO many good books to read … I don’t know what to choose each time I finish another. I once lamented that there were too many good books out there, and that I’d never get to all of them, and then I read somewhere that wouldn’t it be much sadder to have a finite number of good books to read; to know that there were only so many good books and then after that there simply weren’t any anymore. I’d sooner have too many, I guess.
I stop reading books when I realize that I just don’t care about the characters. If I’m 2/3 or 3/4 of the way through the book I usually stick it out but I’m more apt to put the book down for good if it hasn’t grabbed me within the first 50 pages or so. I had a hard time with Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, though I did finish it. I think I put it away a few times in order to read other, shorter books in between. That works for me if I’m having trouble sticking with a book. Often a curiosity will develop as to the characters that I’ve left behind and I’ll find the book easier to go back to.
Comment by pirate — March 30, 2005 @ 6:03 am
11.
I personally have trouble reading anything writtten before Fitgerald. I recently tried to reread The Awakening and couldn’t take the periodness of it. I think it’s OK not to like a book or even any or a great writer’s oeuvre. I also think it’s possible to be able to recognize something as great writing and not want to read it. It’s a lot like dating: a person can be great, but not the right one for you.
Comment by judy b. — March 30, 2005 @ 12:39 pm
12.
I’m clearly out of sync with most of your readers. I only finish one out of ten books I start, and the ones I finish I usually read in no more than three sittings. That’s why I hang out at bookstores with large selections. I can usually tell by reading the first page and the last paragraph whether I’m going to finish it, so I’ll wade through a couple of hundred books over a couple of hours and walk out with a dozen. A recommendation by one of my blog readers dramatically increases the likelihood I’ll enjoy and finish a non-fiction book, but, alas, it doesn’t work for fiction. Not finishing a book does not negate the value of reading as far as you got.
Comment by Dave Pollard — March 30, 2005 @ 4:54 pm
13.
Dave,
“Not finishing a book does not negate the value of reading as far as you got.”
I couldn’t have said it better. I got something out of every one of these books. Each writer has his or her strengths. I think we can learn from each of them (and not just by tearing them apart the way I did).
Vikk,
I think this dissection of books has been a great exercise for me as a writer.
Sarah,
Thank you for visiting. I enjoyed checking out your journal, Rhubarb. Great book rating descriptions. I may adopt (steal) those.
Cassie-b,
Yes, life is short. I love that commercial where the husband tells the wife he finished reading the Internet. We joke about that in our house, mainly when we’ve spent too much time online. There’s no way I’ll finish reading every book I want, much as I’d love to. So there’s no reason to stay with one I don’t care for.
Blogdog,
I get impatient, too, when it seems as if the author is a little too in love with his or her own writing. The bratty child’s parents always think he’s an angel.
Pirate and Judy,
I hope you’ll decide to visit again often.
Thank you for your thoughts on this. I’ve enjoyed visiting both your online homes as well.
Comment by Barbara W. Klaser — March 31, 2005 @ 7:41 pm