I am in the middle of a literary classic and let me tell you – it’s terrible. It has been sitting on my to-read list for ages and I finally started it a couple of weeks ago. To say I’ve been trudging through it would be putting it mildly. For the amount of pages it has I should have been done a week ago but I still have a solid third left to go.
So why am I still reading it?
I prefer to finish a book when I start one but this book is not for me. And that’s completely fine. That’s the beauty of art – sometimes it’s not for you.
Just because someone else thinks it’s good (or bad) doesn’t mean you need to hold the same opinion. I think sometimes the lesson learned is what it is that you don’t like.
I don’t like this book.
A History of Stupidity 