I’ve been cranking out book reviews as often as I can lately, but I have to admit, a run of not-great books has put me into a bit of a funk as far as reading goes. Writing reviews for good and great reads is its own challenge; it’s hard to sound sincere when you’re gushing. Writing reviews for books I didn’t like is a snap. I just let my annoyance take over for me.
The books that fall between “didn’t like” and “okay” are a special challenge. Not only do they send me scurrying back to reread books I liked to get their mediocre taste out of my brain, but I find it hard sometimes to communicate exactly what I didn’t like. I feel like I’m being picky when I say things like the book just didn’t work for me or I didn’t see the point of it. Every book has its reader out there somewhere, after all. I’m just not it.
Normally, when I feel my bookish mojo waning, I head for my favorites—but I’m also up against a self-imposed deadline. August 31 is the end of my book year. (I started this blog in August 2005.) Because I’m competitive about my reading, I want to read more books than I did last year and I’m not sure I’m going to make it. So, no rereads of books I’ve read a bunch of times until I hit 207 books completed.
Hopefully the rest of my books in my immediate to-read pile can help me get my groove back. Thanks for listening to me whine about my self-imposed bookish problems.