I love to read; always have. I don't have much time to read these days, with TV and the web and not making reading a priority getting in the way. Still, if a book grabs my attention, I will make time to actually read it. My interest level is purely based on the first few pages. If I haven't holed myself up in my room, blanket wrapped around me, blocking out the cries for Mommy's attention (my spoiled kids expect to eat every few hours, can you imagine?) by the second chapter, the cause is hopeless.
This is the case no matter what genre, which author, whose recommendation led me to, the glowing reviews of, or accolades awarded to the book. I love horror novels, but I had to claw my way through to finish reading The Shining, the Stanley Kubrick movie version of which terrifies me. I have tried to read books from Oprah's book club that I just couldn't be invested in enough to finish (We Were the Mulvaneys, The Poisonwood Bible). I have tried to read books with wonderful reviews that I just knew I'd love if I stuck with it (Wicked; which I did finish, but most decidedly did not love). My husband bought me Lord of the Rings years ago, and even being the geek I am, I haven't finished it, though I've tried several times. I never finished Gone With the Wind, a Pulitzer Prize winner. And normally, I devour books by Toni Morrison (my favorite), but could not finish Paradise.
As much as I wish I could say I only read novels that whisk me on an emotional journey to challenge my understanding of the world around me, I am a sucker for the shallow, gimmicky page-turner. The DaVinci Code: So predictable, so cliched, so adhered to my hands once I opened the cover. Red Dragon/Silence of the Lambs/Hannibal Rising: Graphic, horrific violence, as seen from the mind of the killer himself, and the worse it gets, the more you are compelled to get through the book so you can witness the good guy win. The Sookie Stackhouse novels: Purely a guilty pleasure, but a pleasure indeed. Even when all that's happened on the page is the description of Sookie's outfit, I have never been tempted to put these books down.
I can't even list criteria here that makes a book entertaining for me, because I haven't found a pattern. I'm not able to say, "I like blank type of books that have blank happening and make me feel blank." I don't know what made me anxious to read every word of Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister yet had to trudge through Wicked. I don't know why I have so much fun delving into the alternate universe of the Sookie Stackhouse series but couldn't make it past the first chapter of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. It's not a subject, genre, or author that keeps me turning pages. A book reviewer would probably at least be able to tell you that the book wasn't worthy because "the material was ill researched and the writing was amateur," or that "the book comes alive with its vivid characters and gripping details." My entire book review, on the other hand, would either read "Finished it," or "Couldn't finish it," however unprofessional that writeup may be.
This is the case no matter what genre, which author, whose recommendation led me to, the glowing reviews of, or accolades awarded to the book. I love horror novels, but I had to claw my way through to finish reading The Shining, the Stanley Kubrick movie version of which terrifies me. I have tried to read books from Oprah's book club that I just couldn't be invested in enough to finish (We Were the Mulvaneys, The Poisonwood Bible). I have tried to read books with wonderful reviews that I just knew I'd love if I stuck with it (Wicked; which I did finish, but most decidedly did not love). My husband bought me Lord of the Rings years ago, and even being the geek I am, I haven't finished it, though I've tried several times. I never finished Gone With the Wind, a Pulitzer Prize winner. And normally, I devour books by Toni Morrison (my favorite), but could not finish Paradise.
As much as I wish I could say I only read novels that whisk me on an emotional journey to challenge my understanding of the world around me, I am a sucker for the shallow, gimmicky page-turner. The DaVinci Code: So predictable, so cliched, so adhered to my hands once I opened the cover. Red Dragon/Silence of the Lambs/Hannibal Rising: Graphic, horrific violence, as seen from the mind of the killer himself, and the worse it gets, the more you are compelled to get through the book so you can witness the good guy win. The Sookie Stackhouse novels: Purely a guilty pleasure, but a pleasure indeed. Even when all that's happened on the page is the description of Sookie's outfit, I have never been tempted to put these books down.
I can't even list criteria here that makes a book entertaining for me, because I haven't found a pattern. I'm not able to say, "I like blank type of books that have blank happening and make me feel blank." I don't know what made me anxious to read every word of Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister yet had to trudge through Wicked. I don't know why I have so much fun delving into the alternate universe of the Sookie Stackhouse series but couldn't make it past the first chapter of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. It's not a subject, genre, or author that keeps me turning pages. A book reviewer would probably at least be able to tell you that the book wasn't worthy because "the material was ill researched and the writing was amateur," or that "the book comes alive with its vivid characters and gripping details." My entire book review, on the other hand, would either read "Finished it," or "Couldn't finish it," however unprofessional that writeup may be.
