I have had the worst time coming up with something to write about this month. I started three or four different drafts on different topics, only to abandon them because I got bored with myself. And then I realized that there’s something that’s been bothering me for a while and I need to get it off my chest, so I’m going to use this column as a combination soap box/therapist.
I don’t like the books I think I’m supposed to like.
I first noticed this back with Stieg Larsson’s The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. Everyone around me was reading it and loving it and I tried multiple times and just couldn’t get into it. I thought it was fluke; that I just wasn’t in the right mood. But, the thing is, I tried multiple times to read it and I could never get very far. People kept telling me to get past the first 50 or 100 pages and it would really pick up. I’m sorry, though, I just don’t have the time to spend 100 pages with a book until it gets good. It should get good right from the start. I’m sure there’s much to like about this book–and the whole Millenium Trilogy, come to that–but I obviously don’t have the patience to get there.
I also didn’t think The Fault in Our Stars was OMG The Best Book Ever! It was good. And, yes, I cried. But, I don’t understand the cult that sprang up around it. There are YA novels that are much better (Eleanor and Park, for one), but they don’t seem to inspire the same rabid fanbase as what is, in the end, a rather sentimental cancer novel. I don’t get it and I feel like a complete s**t when one of its rabid supporters asks me what I thought and all I can muster up is a tepid “It was okay.” (Of course, I stop feeling so bad when they start proselytizing. Seriously, it’s like a cult.)
I stopped reading The Goldfinch about two-thirds of the way through. Someone I know called it Dickensian, which helped me to really crystalize why the book didn’t work for me. Dickens got paid by the word and his works were serialized. Donna Tartt had no real excuse for being wordy and repetitive. And predictable. I stopped reading when I figured out how the rest of the story was going to play out. (I flipped to the end to check my assumptions about the direction in which the plot was heading and–yep–it was just as I suspected.) I actually think this could have been a book that I loved if it had lost about 200 pages. Instead, it ended up being a book I gave up on.
The latest book that I think I’m supposed to like more than I did is All the Light We Cannot See. On an objective, technical level, I can recognize that it is a well-constructed book and I can understand intellectually why others are so fond of it. However, for a book about kids in Europe during World War II, it lacked emotional punch for me. This is a book that I fully expected to make me cry, and it never even got me misty-eyed. And I cry at everything.
A few other of my reading secrets:
Gone Girl, compared to other Gillian Flynn novels, was meh. (Though it brought her lots of new readers, which is excellent.)
Dave Eggers’s writing style is way too “look at me write” for my taste and, though I admire a lot of what he does otherwise (McSweeney’s, 826 Valencia, etc.), I just can’t read his written works.
I find most memoir to be self-indulgent claptrap, written by people who find themselves far more interesting than they really are. I have my own dysfunction, thanks, I don’t particularly want to spend my time reading about yours. (This goes for most celebrities, too.)
I wish the YA novel-in-verse trend would die a quick death. (And please don’t let it proliferate outside of YA.)
I wish the same fate for the “literary genre novel.” If you want to write a zombie novel or a werewolf novel or a post-apocalyptic novel or whatever, don’t do so with the intent to “elevate the genre.” And, for Cthulu’s sake, don’t then give interviews where you disparage the entire genre you were writing in. A good novel is a good novel and a lot of authors who try to “elevate the genre” by writing a “literary genre novel” end up not actually writing good novels.
There you have them. Some of my deepest, darkest reading secrets. Okay, not really, since most of my friends already knew a lot of this. But, now I’ve shared them all with the world. And, please, don’t dump your hate on me. This is all just one reader’s opinions. I’m not trying to claim that none of the above have value or that anyone is wrong for liking them. In fact, I feel as if I’m in the wrong for not liking them. Please forgive me for not “getting it” and I promise to be indulgent of your reading secrets. (But, you have to tell me what they are, first. Come on, no one else will ever know. Tell me, what reading secrets are you keeping?)
Billie Bloebaum will be over here reading this Nora Roberts novel while you look for the words to help her see why she’s wrong about Stieg Larsson.
Hey, Billie. How do you feel about “Frozen?” I dare you…
Awesome! A grumpy post! I’m always wanting to write those and feeling like it’s not “allowed”–by whom, I’m not sure. Thank you for writing one! Maybe I’ll get brave and do one someday, too.
Some of my dirty reading secrets are: I hardly ever read what everyone else is reading at the time, whether it’s a bestseller or the Deschutes County Read the library picks out. I think a lot of those books are worthy books; it’s just that everyone else is reading the book and telling me about it, so I don’t actually have to read it in order to sell it, and frankly, I get tired of hearing about it.
Also, anytime someone tells me “You HAVE to read this book!” it immediately prejudices me against reading it. I guess I just have a contrary nature and I don’t want to be told I HAVE to do anything.
One of my “didn’t-love-it” confessions is Garth Stein’s “The Art of Racing in the Rain.” I did read it, and enjoyed it, and handsold lots of copies. But I don’t think it’s the best of his books. I liked “How Evan Broke His Head and Other Secrets” and “Raven Stole the Moon” better. Happily, once people have read “Racing in the Rain,” they’ll usually gobble up his other books.
I love this post! I am a bookseller at Paulina Springs, and I frequently feel a little self conscious about my reading choices. When it’s time to select our staff picks, I sometimes disappoint myself by picking things I know will be well-received. Two examples that come to mind are “The Circle” and “Ocean at the End of the Lane.” Both are stellar books, and I love discussing and hand selling them, but they were already bestsellers. Some of my other favorites would benefit more from the extra spotlight. Here are some of my shameful literary secrets:
I’m really not interested in Boys in the Boat or Unbroken. I recognize the quality of the writing and cultural value of the books, but they’re just not “my thing.”
I feel shy to admit that I don’t think I’ll ever outgrow Libba Bray as my favorite author– my copy of “A Great and Terrible Beauty” is as worn out and loved as a first car.
For every five novels, I read maybe one non-fiction book… and that book is seldom anything that’s particularly culturally valuable. Usually it’s about parrots.
I don’t like mysteries. At all.
It’s also worth noting that my shyness is usually unwarranted. We have great customers, and they never seem to mind that my tastes veer away from the bestsellers when they ask for a recommendation. People are protective of their favorites (I know I am) but they’re also often open to exploring new literary paths. This month I put Libba Bray’s latest on our staff picks table. Next month it will be something from Max Barry!
Billie you must have touched a nerve with the booksellers at Paulina Springs Books, because I am one also (3/4 responses). I totally agree with your thoughts about Goldfinch – it was at least 150 -200 pages too long! And I got tired of her beating me over the head with her message. So often after I finished reading a section, I shut the book and then screamed “I get it!! I get it!!” I loved her first novel ‘The Secret History’ and was extremely disappointed in her Pulitzer winning novel! I guess my dirty little secret is I can’t stand most self-help books or celebrity tell alls. Isn’t great that we all enjoy different genres and that there are titles for all of us to read and enjoy! Thanks for your post.
My “must read” literary sensation of 2014 with which I had a lot of trouble was A CONSTELLATION OF VITAL PHENOMENA. I was prepared to love this book and was able to get through it, but the author seemed more intent on showing off as a wordsmith than in creating well rounded and understandable characters who have a role in meaningful plot.