My grandmother was an avid reader. A-vid. Until I met Poonch, my grandma read more books than anyone I know. I have no doubt in my mind that she and Poonch would have been fantastic friends had they ever met, but thanks to that crappy C word, my grandma didn't live past the age of 55. I was only 13 when she passed away.
Even though I will always remember my grandma, I must admit that with time, visions are fading. But what will never fade is a memory of her standing by her kitchen sink yelling over to me as I stood in front of one of her many bookshelves...
Once you start a book, you must finish it. No matter how bad it is.
My grandmother is one of the main people who fed my love of reading. She is the one who gave me Anne of Green Gables and The Secret Garden. She also gave me A Tree Grows in Brooklyn and asked to read it once I was done. She returned it to me in due time with a note shoved in a page that I had spilled popsicle on and asked if it was cherry or strawberry. I kept that note for a long time.
Once you start a book, you must finish it. No matter how bad it is.
I'm not sure how old I was when she told me this, but suffice it to say that I have been adhering to this rule of hers for many, many years. But lately, I have struggled with it. There are many times when I will grab a book from the library or purchase three for two at the bookstore, sit down to start reading, and just know I am going to hate this book.
Once you start a book, you must finish it. No matter how bad it is.
I'm not sure why my grandmother adhered to this rule of hers. Maybe she was stubborn. Maybe she felt bad for the author. Maybe she was so optimistic that she could never give up on a story. Before life got so busy, I could pull this off. Not so much anymore. Life is short, life is crazy, and sometimes it just isn't worth it to finish certain books, especially when there are so many more out there to read. But my grandma's love of books and her devotion to a story, any story, good or bad, continues to have a hold on me all these decades later and I, too, am loathe to quit a book, no matter how bad. Yet, sometimes I must. I'm sure she'd love to give me a good talking-to.
So tell me, what do you do when you come across a book that is just killing you to finish. Do you keep plugging along? Or do you move on to something more fulfilling?
