I gave up on a book Monday afternoon because I was forcing myself to get through it for no good reason. Every time I tried to describe it, I described it in terms of how annoyed I was or how disappointed I was that it wasn’t living up to my expectations based on the premise. I made it nearly halfway through and finally quit because I didn’t care. I didn’t care about the characters, I didn’t care what happens in the plot (hardly anything beyond the initial premise had happened by the halfway point, so I had no expectations that anything else actually would), and I didn’t care if I never found out how it ends. And now I won’t.
I’m rewarding myself by picking up Kindred by Octavia Butler. She’s a treasure, or she was. She died around 10 years ago, but her books are SO FREAKIN’ GOOD, and there’s really no excuse for why I haven’t read this one yet, probably her most well known book. So I’m reading it now and I have no doubt I’ll enjoy it and probably learn something from it.