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yeah, I heard someone on the radio last year (can't remember who it was) who was on the Booker committee, saying "I liked this one so much I actually read the whole thing..."
Note to anyone going for a major literary prize- either make it start wonderfully, or look good when scanned. Other than that, it seems content's irrelevant.
I used to religiously finish any and all books that came my way. Then I slid into bad habits... having eight on the go at once, etc. This soon became having one on the go and seven I'd never finish.
Then I deliberately tightened up on this- WOULD NOT start a book if I was in the middle of another.
Sadly, after a few years of being bloody good at that, I've slipped back into my old ways. People will mention books in conversation, and I'll suddenly think "fuck! I'm in the middle of that as we speak! But it's been so damn long since I picked it up that I no longer know what the fuck is happening in it."
Should have corrected that as a New Year's resolution, really, but it's only just occurred to me thanks to this timely thread... (Although I AM gonna finish "Martha Peake" by Patrick McGrath before I even allow myself to be tempted by another book's glamorous cover, charming way with words, or "read me in bed" eyes.)
So yes, there is a point at which I give up on a book... it varies wildly, and I seldom admit to myself that I've done so, so can't really give a reasonable estimation on where it is. But there is one.
I can't think of a book that has actually made me consciously decide not to finish it- the worst written and most tedious are a challenge, the most odious a source of information (even if that information is the answer to the question "what is your fashionable complete bastard thinking this season), but I'm surrounded by books I've given up on inadvertently.
Although there is another bloody good reason why I find myself in possession of half-read books (and it's not just the short attention span)- I tend to lose stuff. Regularly. I'll get pissed, fall asleep on the bus, wake up miles away, manage to make my way home (on at least three occasions without my glasses, without which I'm fucking blind), only to discover that I've left my bag on the bus/in the bus depot/in the gutter/fuck knows. And I always take a book on the bus. On the rare occasions lost property offices actually still HAVE my stuff, I'll have to go miles, to somewhere I've never been before, to pick it up, thus naturally feeling insecure. And what does an insecure Stoat do when feeling lost and alone in alien territory? Find the charity and 2nd hand book shops, that's what.
WHOAH! lapse into incoherence there, for which I apologise, but which I think does answer the question. Sort of.
[ 19-01-2002: Message edited by: Moominstoat ]
[ 19-01-2002: Message edited by: Moominstoat ] |
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