As usual, I’m putting my own spin on this week’s topic – originally “Books I Disliked/Hated but Am Really Glad I Read (maybe just for bragging rights)” – because I don’t often finish books I dislike, even for bragging rights. And if I do (usually because I’ve been sent it for review), I usually develop something akin to literary Stockholm syndrome by the end and start to see something of value. So here are two different sections – the first is books I struggled to finish (either I had a hard time getting through them or several false starts), and the second will be some books I am either scared to try or have tried and failed.
I tried reading One Hundred Years of Solitude several times before I finally got into it. One of the main sticking points for me was that there were not only what felt like hundreds of characters, but they all seemed to have the same two or three names (if memory serves there were 17 characters by the name of Aureliano). It was hard to keep them straight, on top of which this was one of my first forays into magical realism and it was unfamiliar territory. In the end it turned out to be a favourite of mine, and I went on to read three or four of his other books.
The Fountainhead is just tough going. It’s written in a manner that feels cold and removed, so although it’s fascinating to experience, it’s not easy to become invested in. It’s also really really long. A great experience to have had, though, as I can honestly say I’ve never read another book like it.
I read A Prayer for Owen Meany when I was about sixteen. It took a very long time for me to get through, but by the time I was about halfway through, I was so glad I stuck with it. Irving’s talent lies in slowly drawing in his reader, letting them feel as if they know the world he has created, and then twisting ever so slightly until reality is tilted on its axis and the reader is left not quite knowing what happened. I went on to read many of his other books, and they all left me feeling both satisfied and deeply unsettled.
Purity was a book I got sent from the publisher without requesting it, but at the time it was a very hot commodity in the ARC world. It’s not one I would have been likely to pick up of my own volition, but since I had it, I decided to give it a try. Years have passed since I read it, but I’m still a bit unsure what I think of it. I am glad I read it though, and it was definitely a saga.
I read Life After Life and was pleasantly surprised. I was excited to pick up its companion, A God In Ruins, but found it a lot harder to get into. I finished it, but I didn’t really enjoy much of the experience. I’m probably glad I read it. But I also could have lived with not having read it.
A Little Life practically killed me. I am still amazed that I actually made it through, but I did, and I still haven’t fully recovered.
I think the main issue with The Edible Woman was that I picked it up at the wrong time in my life. I read it when I was about 11 or 12, and it just wasn’t a book I could relate to at that age. I picked it up again last year and read some of it – it’s not at all how I remembered it – and I do plan to finish it again at some point.
Now for some books I’m terrified of trying to read:
I’ve tried to read Infinite Jest a few times, and it seems like it won’t be too bad, but then I hear all this talk about how challenging it is, and how you need a wiki to make sense of it because Wallace made up his own words, and I just give up. I am fascinated by Wallace – despite never having finished one of his books, I’ve seen interviews with him, and his mind was extraordinary. I feel like it will be a lot of work, but will also be well worth the effort. I hope to have the time and energy for it at some point.
The Luminaries is just long. That’s really it.
I’m quite afraid of Crime and Punishment. Not because of the length or density, but because I remember reading somewhere that there’s a particularly gruesome scene in it that describes a horse being abused, and though I have read the beginning of the book and found it intriguing, I can never get far because I’m too afraid of that scene. If any of you have read it and can tell me where in the book it occurs and whether I could skip that section without missing any of the plot, I’d greatly appreciate it!
I added 4321 to my TBR when it was nominated for the Man Booker last year, and fully intended to give it a go. But then I started hearing some worrying reviews that said not only was it needlessly long, but that it comes across as homophobic and privileged. That makes it hard for me to want to pick it up.
Ulysses is one I’ve tried to read, mainly because my dad said it was one he enjoyed. But, I mean, come on. It’s not even recognizably the same language as the one I speak. I don’t stand a chance.
That’s it for this week! I’d love to hear from you if you’ve read any of these, particularly any of the ones I’m afraid to try that you think I might be pleasantly surprised by. And I’d love to know which books you’ve struggled to finish, or are intimidated to try!
Top Ten Tuesday is a weekly link-up feature created by The Broke and the Bookish and hosted by Jana at That Artsy Reader Girl. Every week TTT has a different topic, and everyone who links up has to create a link of ten items that fit that topic. To see past and upcoming topics, go here.
One Hundred Years of Solitude was pretty overwhelming for me too! It was one of my first forays into magical realism and I wasn’t familiar with either the genre or the background from which the book drew. Recently I found a two-part series from Crash Course on YouTube about the book and it, along with me learning more about and reading more magical realism helped up it into context. (The Crash Course videos are really good so if you are considering giving the book another try, it might be a helpful resource).
I haven’t checked those out, but if I do decide to read it again, I might look into them! Even without them I did absolutely love the book once I was able to sort out the characters and get into the world. It’s well worth the effort!
I am also scared of Infinite Jest! It just seems like an ordeal but it’s supposed to be so good and I can’t make myself start it.
I’ve started it a couple of times, and it actually didn’t seem that hard based on my reading, however I’ve heard so much about it being challenging and hard to follow that the expectation has somehow had more impact on my perception of the book than my actual experience with it. If that makes any sense at all. I wonder if perhaps there are also layers to which it can be read – like if it can be read just on a surface level and understood, but could also be read with in-depth critique and with reference to the wiki and other readers’ thoughts and become a different type of reading experience. If I can get over myself, I’d like to find out!
I would be so proud of myself if I could get through Ulysses! I’m not holding my breath though.
Aww, A Prayer for Owen Meany is my favorite John Irving! 🙂
Here’s the thing with Ulysses for me – I think I could get through it. As in, I could technically read every word on every page and say I’d read the text. But I don’t think I’d actually understand anything that’s happening in it, so what’s the point??
I adored Owen Meany, and I really need to re-read it! I barely remember the book at this point, but I have a very strong sense memory for what it evoked in me as I read it. I’m curious to find out how different that experience would be at 36 than it was at 16.
I had to laugh at your “issues” with 100 YEARS. I get peeved if an author uses, for example, Jane/June or Julie/Julia in the same book (and these kinds of things seem to happen more often than not), I could never deal with 17 Arelianos. Seriously, I know it’s an issue with my own brain, but how hard is it to come up with character names that are easily distinguished (absent some relevant reason to conflate them)?
OH MY GOD ME TOO. I have such a hard time. It’s like, how many thousands of names are there out there, and how lazy do you have to be not to pick ones that are noticably different? To be fair to Marquez, though, I think this was a very purposeful decision on his part. It’s a family saga, and written in a style that uses hyperbole and exaggeration to underline the characteristics of the characters and family tree. So I think having 17 Aurelianos was a way of underlining the rogueish nature of Aureliano senior, and also that they were essentially interchangable (I think. I could be wrong. I read it like two decades ago!). The other repetition of names was used as a way to create a living link between generations in the family, thus making it feel more like one large organism rather than a series of closed nuclear families. (There’s also the cultural element of repetition of names being much more common in Latin American families) If any of that makes sense. So once I got into it, I could understand why he made that decision, and I think it’s a conscious one in this case, but still. It was really hard to keep straight and yeah, normally not a thing with which I am cool.
This made me laugh. I’m glad I’m not alone. I can see why it needed to be done by Marquez, but the last thing I need is for my current read to be any more of an Alzheimer’s test than it is already.
Yeah, as I said I read the book a couple of decades ago and had trouble with it – I wouldn’t stand a chance now! Most days I can barely keep my cats straight.
John Irving–almost forgot about him. I enjoyed his work so much in my teens.
Yeah, so did I! I still can’t exactly put my finger on why, but for some reason his writing was a major phase for me towards the end of high school. I like the wide variety of settings, characters and themes he tackles, and that his books are very distinct form one another. He’s a very talented author, in my opinion!
I’m a little daunted to even read Life After Life, but it sounds like it’s worthwhile. I’ll probably leave A God In Ruins alone.
Life After Life is a fair amount of work. I was glad to have read it, but even once you have gotten into it and understand the premise, it’s not easy going. But I liked the characters and found the concept intriguing. I also liked the setting and time period (UK, WWII). A God In Ruins just didn’t have the same attraction. I didn’t like the characters, I didn’t like the contexts in which they were developed, I wasn’t invested in its outcome, and I didn’t like some of the plot choices that were made. Most of that is personal; I know many people have loved it. But it just wasn’t for me!
I’m not sure if I really want to try A Little Life after reading your difficulty with it. I put it on my list of books to read this year. Maybe not.
I did a full review of it you can search on my blog if you want to hear more of what I thought of it – it’s one of the few books that my opinion on changed after I’d left it for some time. My main issues with it were the length – I don’t think it really needed to be quite so long – the relationships between the characters, and the sheer amount of abuse one character endures as it began to feel gratuitous and unnecessarily over the top. That said, there were things I loved about it, and it definitely left me with a lot to consider. So if it’s one you were interested in, I’d say give it a go. See if it appeals to you.
I also remember you left a comment quite some time ago that I never had a chance to reply to, but keep wishing I had. You had mentioned that you wanted to read Ali Smith’s Winter but hadn’t read Autumn I think? Or maybe it was that you wanted to read Autumn but didn’t want to commit to the series? Anyway, I wanted to tell you that though the books are in a loose quadrilogy, it’s very loose. I think you could very easily read any one of them alone. I also think that though it’s reputed to be a very current novel, it isn’t that set in its time. If you’re not looking for the Brexit connections, you could easily miss them. So I’d say read any of them that appeal to you! If that helps at all.