I’m not sure if you’ve ever taken a peek at my list of “read” books on Goodreads, but a good number of them are either 1.) chick lit, 2.) Brit lit, or 3.) Brit chick lit. It’s like brain candy, I can’t help it. I’ve never been British or a 30-something singleton so there’s just something exotic and adventurous about those pink, fluffy paperbacks. I have been feeling guilty lately and decided that maybe, before I start another book I borrowed from Amanda (a fellow chick lit-lover) maybe I should read something different.
I started a book that was recommended to me, written by a design critic about how we get so attached to our “things” and what this means about us. Well… zzzzzzzzzzz. This book is so awful and I’m only about a quarter of the way into it. I can’t bear to finish it, but I feel bad not finishing a book.
I can say with confidence that I’ve only ever not finished two books in my life. One I wrote about a while ago, and as awful as it was, I’m still determined to read it one day. The other was a book by Anita Shrieve that I found under the oil tank in the basement of our house when we moved in. After reading several chapters, I decided that the previous owners of the house must have thrown the book there out of frustration because it really was that bad.
So tell me what you think. Should I give up? Should I keep reading hoping it might get better. I’m curious, what would you do? Are you a dedicated reader no matter what, or are you a quitter like I want to be?