You know that book that you see at the library or on a friend’s shelf or at the bookstore? And you think to yourself, “Wow, this looks amazing!” ? So you borrow or buy it and make some discreet excuses to get home and read it.
You have this moment right before you start it:
You read it.
And all of a sudden instead of having that indescribable reading feeling where you are gliding on air and it feels like no one can ever get to you in this safe world of yours, it feels more like sitting in a port-a-potty.
Yeah. Like that.
Suddenly you just have to sit there, book still in your lap, staring into space and wondering where you went wrong.
The synopsis? Flawless. Reviews? All praise – you couldn’t find one bad one. Friend recommendations? They all told you to read it.
So why, why is it so horrible?
These are the questions that keep me up at night.
After years of considering all the possibilities, I have narrowed it down to one.
First let me set the scene.
There are three main things that make me put down a book in disgust:
-Language. Ugh, don’t even.
-Intimacy. Again, don’t even.
-Usage of drug/alcohol. If I have said it once, I have said it a thousand times. Don’t. Even.
But I’ve noticed that some of my friends don’t mind these things. Which explains the recommendation part.
Actually, most people don’t mind these things. Which explains the reviews.
Nothing much can be said for the synopsis…
Honestly though, if books have these things in them, I need someone, anyone, to tell me!
That’s my rant for the day.
Why do books make you put them down?