tiganeasca
Moderator
I like to finish what I start. Even books that I don't particularly care for, I'll usually finish. Partly out of some sick sense of guilt and partly out of a misplaced hope that they'll get better and, finally, I suppose, partly to give the entire book a chance. But as I get older, I find myself somewhat less inclined to spend the time finishing books I dislike. There's too much stuff out there remaining unread to spend my time torturing myself.
Which brings me to note with admiration that in the "Recently Finished Books" thread, DouglasM just finished Anna Karenina. That got me thinking: I've been a fan of Tolstoy for decades and have read much of his work. But I am unable to read that book. I've gotten a hundred or more pages into it and come to the conclusion that I can't stand Anna and couldn't possibly ever care what happens to her (or Vronsky, though he's a bit more interesting).
Likewise, another classic I've tried to read several times and just can't finish: Thomas Mann's Magic Mountain. I've gotten through about 250-300 pages both times I've tried (most recently within the past year) and just bog down. Again, I've read a lot of Mann and have enjoyed almost everything else I've read. But this is another instance of, "I just don't care." I get what Mann is about. I just can't the vehicle, I guess. Too much navel-gazing, self-involvement.
I want to read and enjoy these books; such highly rated books are undoubtedly so well-regarded for a reason. But neither of these two books works for me. And though I suspect I'll give each one another shot at some point, I can't be optimistic.
Which brings me to note with admiration that in the "Recently Finished Books" thread, DouglasM just finished Anna Karenina. That got me thinking: I've been a fan of Tolstoy for decades and have read much of his work. But I am unable to read that book. I've gotten a hundred or more pages into it and come to the conclusion that I can't stand Anna and couldn't possibly ever care what happens to her (or Vronsky, though he's a bit more interesting).
Likewise, another classic I've tried to read several times and just can't finish: Thomas Mann's Magic Mountain. I've gotten through about 250-300 pages both times I've tried (most recently within the past year) and just bog down. Again, I've read a lot of Mann and have enjoyed almost everything else I've read. But this is another instance of, "I just don't care." I get what Mann is about. I just can't the vehicle, I guess. Too much navel-gazing, self-involvement.
I want to read and enjoy these books; such highly rated books are undoubtedly so well-regarded for a reason. But neither of these two books works for me. And though I suspect I'll give each one another shot at some point, I can't be optimistic.