I dislike being lent books – nothing is more likely to make something seem unappealing than being told at length how much you’ll love it. I never seem to get round to reading these things which clearly fails to endear me to the lender, and on the rare occasion I borrow and love something I really don’t want to give it back – this also fails to endear me to the lender, but in an effort to expand my reading horizons I’m part of a postal reading group. (Although in the interests of full disclosure it’s only fair to admit that the group is made up of likeminded readers so whilst my tbr pile expands horizons stay much the same.)
I have two months to read each book, and somehow always leave it so I’m rushing through it in the last few days, but so far I’ve managed not to disgrace myself or let the side down to badly which is perhaps part of the reason the latest book to arrive perturbed me as much as it did. In short I did not like it, wasn’t attracted to it, and am thanking heaven it was a short quick read. It’s the first time since school days I’ve bothered to read a book I haven’t taken to, but I felt honour bound to get through it and it did serve to illustrate to me how decidedly I stay in a reading comfort zone.
I’m vaguely aware of a whole world of books which don’t really appeal to me without even including things I feel I’ve grown out of or moved on from. I know when my buying habits changed from fairly indiscriminate to deeply discriminatory and now I’m wondering exactly when my interests began to narrow down to the specific niches they occupy today? I suppose when I started to live alone (and like it). Altogether reading a book I didn’t like cover to cover has been an interesting experience, it’s not something I mean to make a habit of (unless the postal strike leaves me with no choice in the matter) but once in a way I suppose it’s good for my reading health.