You know, it’s every reader’s guilty secret. This book dumping thing.
Book dumping happens to the best of us. It happens to everyone who reads.
I am sure we all started out eager to read everything and anything that came our way - I still read the small print on cosmetic bottles, the nutritional information on Danone Chocolate Chip Cookies (with Hazelnuts, of course), the ingredients of my Maybelline and ZA lipsticks, the awful bits of instructions which come with any gadget and gizmo. I guess once one knows how to recognise letters and words, there’s just no stopping us. It’s on autopilot I guess.
And then, there’s book dumping. Book dumping is that act which we voracious, greedy readers commit. Like moi. I pick up a book excitedly, read it for some 4 or 5 pages and then…. get so deflated because the book is NOTHING like the review I read some moons ago. Or nothing like I expected when salivating over the cover or the blurbs or the glowing praises.
The book becomes my personal burden. I am amazed that I even picked it up. But the perfectionist reader in me screams, “But how can you leave it unread? That’s absolutely unthinkable! Unfathomable!”
Therein sets in the book dumping guilt.
But you see, I can’t seem to finish some books. One in particular bugs me to no end. It’s still sitting like some fat cat on my shelf - Hemingway’s For Whom the Bells Toll. I thought I needed some literary inspiration. All I got was some inane mental torture. I can’t decide if the idea of war repulses me or the idea of that strange man’s writing (which for the life of me I cannot understand - errr, does that make me an intellectual moron?).
Of course, Daphne has written about it sometime ago and that I don’t have to feel guilty about not finishing a book. It’s my prerogative anyway. It’s my time anyway.
And yet! The other one is Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky (see, I can’t even spell that man’s name!) which is so belligerently boring. He goes on and on about how guilty he feels about stealing from the old woman, whom he also murdered. How guilt is eating into him and how he believes everyone knows he’s committed such a heinous crime. And that’s all I know because I stopped at page 231. Yes, yes, hurray for me because I managed to read half of the book before I gave up in desperation.
I am trying not to feel guilty about book dumping because these days I try to select the kind of books I want to read, not books on someone’s must-read list, or some award winners of some competition or other. It doesn’t work for me.
I’ve decided that if I don’t want to dump books, I should be pickier about books I read. On my to-read list are quite a number of fiction and non-fiction (thanks to book-buying every now and then when I go to Borders and Popular in Queensbay Mall).
There’s Thomas Friedman’s The World is Flat, Terry Pratchett’s Thud!, Eisenberg brothers’ Waiting for Your Cat to Bark, W.Chan Kim’s Blue Ocean Strategy (thanks to Rona for this true gem of a book), Jostein Gaarder’s Maya (yes, Mayakirana reads Maya!) and Kirk Cheyfitz’ Thinking Inside the Box. Plus, Best Pal loaned to me Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go which I haven’t started on yet! Tsk, tsk. (A side note: My all-time favourite books are The Little Prince by Antoine de St Exupery and Sophie’s World by Jostein Gaarder. The book I don’t like at all was VC Andrew’s very dark, very disturbing Secrets in the Attic which I read at 14 and which traumatised me for the longest time after!)
What’s your book list like and shhh… have you dumped a book lately? Do tell!
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