Reading Lull

Lately, I can't seem to find a book that I really want to finish. I get a third to half-way through and think "meh" -- just not interested. I don't know if it's the weather, or me or what. My daughter recommended "Ready Player One" by Ernest Cline. So I read about half of it -- it's pretty video-game centric for my taste. I'll probably finish it eventually, but I decided to move on for now.  Next I tried "The Buddha in the Attic" by Julie Otsuka. This one's well written, but doesn't actually have really identifiable characters; it basically covers a whole immigrant population with hints about specific persons. It's hard to explain, so here's an example:

"They gave themselves new names we had not chosen for them and could barely pronounce. One called herself Doris. One called herself Peggy. Many called themselves George. Saburo was called Chinky by all the others because he looked just like a Chinaman. Toshitachi was called Harlem because his skin was so dark. Etsuko was given the name Esther by her teacher, Mr. Slater, on her first day of school. "It's his mother's name," she explained. To which we replied, "So is yours." Sumire called herself Violet. Shizuko was Sugar. Makoto was just Mac. Shigeharu Takagi joined the Baptist church at the age of nine and changed his name to Paul. Edison Kobayashi was born lazy but had a photographic memory and could tell you the name of every person he'd ever met..."

The technique is interesting, but as a reader who craves well-developed characters, it just doesn't satisfy me. One reason I love authors as diverse as Jane Austen, Tony Hillerman, and Terry Pratchett is because they create three-dimensional characters. Anyone who has read "Pride and Prejudice" quickly learns just what to expect from Elizabeth's silly mother and younger sisters. Hillerman's Joe Leaphorn and Jim Chee are so well drawn that after I finish the book I miss them as if they were friends who have moved away. Then there are the wacky Pratchett characters - Sam Vimes, City Watch Commander; Lord Vetinari; and, of course, Granny Weatherwax. What's not to love?

What to do? Reread a favorite? That's something I seldom do. Keep trying to find something I can really crawl into and disappear for awhile? I like that idea but I'm feeling gun-shy. Ah well -- I guess I'll just go clean the house and think about it some more.

Does reading taste run in families?

My daughter was an avid reader from an early age. But pretty early on, she decided that fantasy was the only genre she wanted to read. I read some fantasy and enjoy it, but I also read mysteries, literary fiction, memoirs, science fiction, and anything else that grabs my attention.

I used to always hear friends talk about exchanging books with their mothers, and thought to myself, "That would be nice." But unless the book was written by Terry Pratchett (who I do love), Piers Anthony, or any other fantasy writer, my daughter never seemed interested in the books I suggested. That all changed, however, when I gave her my old Kindle. Since I already had a boat-load of books archived at Amazon, she discovered hours of free reading. She also discovered that Mom had read some pretty interesting books. It's so exciting now to be able to share books and talk about them once we've both read them. And I must say, the sharing goes both ways. I probably would never have read The Hunger Games if she hadn't read it first and encouraged me. Likewise, I'm pretty sure she would never have read Major Pettigrew's Last Stand, which she thoroughly enjoyed.

So maybe reading taste isn't an inherited trait, but, as with shrimp and mushrooms, it's possible to develop a taste for different things as you age.

Does it make you sad?

Two times recently, a friend has decided not to read or not to finish a book I really like -- “Nation” by Terry Pratchett. Does it make you sad when friends reject or don’t care for a book that you really like? Usually it doesn’t bother me. I recognize that everyone has different tastes, and I certainly don’t enjoy every book that my friends and family like. But on occasion, I feel a little sting when someone won’t even give a book a chance. I don’t hold it against them; I just wish they could have the same experience with the book that I had when I read it.

How do you feel when someone dislikes or won’t read a book that you love?