I stopped reading a book recently, and for some reason that process of putting the book down sits very uncomfortably with me. The book had been recommended to me by a friend a number of years back. I purchased it at the time, but ever since it has languished, other titles jumping the queue.

I finally picked the book up a month or so ago. I wanted to enjoy the story because it had been recommended to me, but I found the plot rambling, as though it was trying to keep going by padding itself out.

After a couple of weeks, where I was busy and distracted and did very little reading anyway, I decided to give up on the book. I picked up another one and have been consuming that and over the last forty eight hours. My change in reading patterns just by picking up a new book justifies to me the decision to leave the first book…..and at the same time that choice is still sitting uncomfortably with me. I’m not sure why?

I’d still like to know the outcome of the story. Maybe I’ll return to it once I have a couple more good reads under my belt? My sense though is that I won’t. The book is long and just the thought of picking it up to slog through it to find out what happens in the end, does not feel very appealing right now. The word ”slog” probably says it all?

I think that part of my disquiet is simply the enjoyment of reading different stories and wanting to enjoy this one. However, in doing so I am putting aside the fact that not every story is for everyone. Some movies or television series aren’t my cup of tea. My wife loves them, friends love them, but for me….meh. This is not for me. Why should books be any different? With time and reflection, my hope is that this sense of unease will come to sit more comfortably.