It’s a common occurrence. You’re really enjoying a book but for one reason or another you put it down for a bit and then start to become indifferent. The book you were really enjoying that great when you’d put it down… you’re leaving it on the table unfinished. Perhaps you’ve started another book or you’re just not reading now, at the moment. And you leave it and leave it and become less and less interest.

This has happened to me so much, though I think it’s something you get better at avoiding in time, simply because you realise how it occurs. It will still happen, even then, but more likely due to other responsibilities than because you’re actively avoiding it.

Why does it happen and why do we lose interest? I think there are two reasons. The first is that once you put the book down you’re going to start forgetting it. You’re going to forget the greatness and its impact on you, even if you don’t forget the feeling itself. And it’s a slow process of forgetting, at least at first, slow enough you reason with yourself it doesn’t matter today, you’ll pick it up tomorrow. Rinse and repeat. Thinking of my own experiences I’d say the forgetfulness declines dramatically after a certain point, even if that point differs per book, situation, and person.

The second reason is that you’re not holding it in a place of importance. You were, but now you’re not. It loses the effect it was having because you decided not to read it. If it’s not a priority a book’s something you’re going to forget.

As such, a book will lose its hold on you as you find other things to do. And when you reach that day on which you ask yourself why you didn’t finish it, you’ll often forget that you put it aside.

I’m finding this with The House On The Strand. It’s only been a week since I read the first glorious 40 pages and it’s been because I want to concentrate on my Netgalley list; but already the wonder I felt about the concept, the fantasy, has lost its hold on me and whilst I know I’ll return to it soon (to avoid the trap) that happiness I had is more an indifference. It’ll likely return, but still. (Maybe I should say I lost my hold on the book rather than the other way round…)

In my case the process happens most with books that I find daunting, I know that. Putting down a book such a book leaves me back to being daunted, no matter that I’d conquered it previously. So I find Du Maurier daunting for the length and cultural and thematic importance – I’ll lose my grip if I leave it.

What has your experience of this concept been? What do you think causes it, whether in general or for you personally?

This post was inspired by Simon’s list on what he’s learnt about reading.

To finish or not finish a book that isn’t working for you: that is the hopefully not-too-frequent question.

As you may know, I have a hard time giving up on a book, most especially if I’m a fair way through it. I’ll stop reading a book after 10 or so pages if it doesn’t grab me but I consider this more in line with sampling – not so much a DNF because it most cases I’ll return to it at some point in the future if for no other reason than I own it and feel I should.

On a personal level I’m at odds with the thought that to continue with a book that’s not working is to waste time. I do understand it – if you’re reading a book you dislike you’re spending time on that instead of one you’d like. I also understand (and experience) that slumps can be brought on by bad books. My issue in not finishing a book is that I like to review most books I read and feel it does a disservice to review it unfinished. In other words I respect those who can write DNF reviews, but they’re not things I would be able to write myself. I’d be uncomfortable reviewing with only so much knowledge, even if stated. The book may have improved and I might have liked it.

My main reason for trying to finish, however, is that I’d feel I was wasting the time I’d already invested. To not finish would be to not gain anything ‘solid’. And I wouldn’t be able to ‘do’ much with it beyond saying I didn’t like what I’d read. (I think here I’m wary of being in the position of panning things others in a conversation have liked and not having suffice evidence to back it up. I guess I’d be uncomfortable not knowing the whole, not matter how valid not knowing the whole is.

I know my thoughts differ greatly from the norm so I’d like to hear your take on it.

I considered writing this yesterday but wasn’t sure. Belle’s post on the same subject convinced me. Somewhat ironically the lateness of this post shows I need to be ready for Monday before the readathon starts.

I learned a fair few things this time. Firstly, that I should continue to split my time between reading and cheerleading. When I chose only to read I was too distracted by the conversations on Twitter; I felt I was missing out by focusing on books. Of course I could join in and I did, but it was easy to join in and not really go back to reading. By reading and cheerleading I was able to do both, obviously, and found splitting my time into chunks and switching ‘tasks’ works well for distraction. I’m not sure I could cheer and not read unless I only spent a few hours on the readathon or if I cheered on blogs. Cheerleading on Twitter is quick by its very nature.

Secondly, that it pays to keep to one room for cheerleading, to not bring your cheerleading with you. I found that keeping the activities separate helped me focus much more on my books because I couldn’t see what was happening on Twitter.

Thirdly, to not scrimp on sleep, even if I want to stay up just one more hour than usual. It might not ruin a pattern but it’s no fun feeling tired just to see through another hour of readathon. Quality not quantity.

Fourth, that planning this event doesn’t work for me. Not deciding on books ahead of time and just continuing what I was already reading is a good idea. That said, I was far enough through my book this time to know in advance that it was working for me.

If you joined the readathon, or have in the past, what have you come to realise? If you haven’t joined, how was your weekend?

I don’t know about you, but I’m finding that the longer I read, and the longer I remain in this world of books, it’s increasingly easier to lower my expectations for books that have been hyped up.

Now I don’t mean this to be cruel – I don’t go into a book with a desire to dislike it – rather that lowering my expectations is a sort of damage control. As much as hype can be fun. It’s easier, if you’ve low expectations, to accept that a book was bad, and it can be rewarding when the book turns out to be excellent. Of course it is more rewaring when you’re hyped and love the book, but more damning, I think, when you’re hyped and the book ends up not working for you. It seems worse than it is, you’re more disappointed than you might have been.

It often takes a concious decision (I won’t say ‘effort’, this topic’s not that serious) to lower your expectations. Reading several reviews, to get different opinions, can help, as can simply remembering other times books have ultimately failed to interest you. Sometimes it requires waiting a little longer to read it. Sometimes it’s impossible, but I’ve found that at least when it’s impossible, with experience it’s easier to acknowledge, to weaken the affect the hype may have on you.

I’m of the opinion that overall, low expectations are for the best.

What do you think?

This is a bit of a rambling, musing, sort of post. I’m looking for your opinions really.

There are so many bestseller lists nowadays and each of varying merit – merit in some cases of course being a question of individual taste. Some seem trivial, especially when you see a book that you and, it seems, no one else, has heard of; on other occasions they are almost the be all end all.

In years gone by – by this I mean the ‘old’ days of book talk being the domain of newspapers and magazines – I used to take more note of lists than I do now (again it’s the sheer difference in quantity and the way they were more special when they were few and thus coveted). These days I rarely read a list unless it’s published on a newspaper website or it’s one a blogger has discussed and included in a post. More often than not, my association with lists is limited to the mention on the cover of a book.

This is all very judgemental of me so I’ll end this point here by saying that bestseller lists can affect my reading choices if I’m partial to the creator of the list or if I’m intrigued by a book but wouldn’t have chosen to read it if I hadn’t known it was so popular. It’s no use saying I don’t ascribe to hype; try as I can, hype will get to me on occasion and sometimes you just have to let it have its way.

So, a new point to get away from the judgement – I may read a bestseller based on its presence on a list however my reading most often depends on whether my fellow bloggers have enjoyed it. A bestseller list is a good place to start your choosing plan, but it’s devoid of the necessary notes on subject matter. The recommendation is mathematical, and words and a personal recommendation win every time.

With bestseller lists there’s that expectation that the book will be good, so you have to keep in mind that the hype might well be just that, hype, and that it might not be the book for you. A bestseller may have won many people over, but ‘many’ isn’t ‘everyone’. I think in many ways it’s harder to accept a book didn’t work for you if you chose it because of a bestseller list than it is if you picked it at random or read a few reviews. I think not liking a bestseller can often cause more confusion for the dissenter than it should (of course a hyped book that most agree isn’t really a good book – you know which I’m thinking of here – is different).

Similarly, a bestseller might simply be a bestseller because of hype, because of marketing spiel or a few choice words, not because people have read and loved it.

I always think it’s worth remembering that some lists aren’t as much of a recommendation as they might seem, that a book can easily make it onto a list if the author or publisher are there at the right time and place. I know that a book can technically be called a bestseller, as far as the cover copy is concerned, if it makes #1 during a few hours on Amazon.

I suppose what I’m saying is that bestseller lists can be good, they can be bad, they can be valid ways of choosing books, but you’ve got to remember that they’re not necessarily about the content.

What do you think of bestseller lists – do they affect your reading choices?