Are you one of those stubborn, determined readers who finishes everything that you start? Because I have learned that, while I think it’s an admirable quality, I’m not that kind of person. I used to think that I was! I’d get to a point in a book where I was stalled because of one reason or another. Usually, I just wasn’t gelling with some aspect of the story. More often than not, I fail to care. Something within the book has to make me care. I’m at that point with one of my current reads, and while part of me truly wants to finish the book due to other factors, I find that I just do not give one good goddamn about what happens. Nothing in this book has me interested in what happens at the end.

Cut because I’m going to talk more. I won’t be naming names. But cutting anyway.

Normally, when I DNF (do not finish, for those not in the know) a book, it’s almost always not the book’s fault. It’s mine. For example, there was one excellently written epic fantasy that I started last year, but I wasn’t in the headspace to read and appreciate it at that time. One of my closest friends had just passed away, and I just couldn’t deal with a book that could, potentially, break my heart. That’s the risk with loving fiction: you always run the risk of having your heart shattered. Peg Kerr’s gorgeous novel, The Wild Swans, broke me in such a way that I had to take a break at work just to cry it out. Robin Hobb constantly shatters my soul. Both of these are writers that I trust, so I will allow them to continue hurting me with anything that they choose to write in the future. (Hobb recently completed[?] the Realm of the Elderlings saga, but Kerr, as far as I know, isn’t publishing right now…I remain hopeful.)

But some books…I just don’t care. One of my current reads is excellently written. It explores an aspect of the fantasy genre that I adore, in a way in which I haven’t seen before. This is always wonderful for me, a fan of this particular flavor of fantasy. I knew, going in, that it wasn’t going to be a cheerful book. I remembered hearing about it on social media years ago, and I knew what I was getting into.

What I didn’t expect was to get so bored with it. I’m not quite at the halfway mark, but I’m tempted to just call it a wash. I’m going to give it a bit more, because I have heard that this writer is excellent at what they do, but I’m not sure if it’s for me.

So I’m taking a (hopefully) short break from this one to take a trip back to Ben Aaronovitch’s London. I’m re-started Black Mould right now, in preparation for re-starting The Hanging Tree. I already know that I love this series, so it’s a very safe bet to keep from falling into a reading slump. This is something that has happened to me far too many times for me to count, and I’m determined to avoid it if possible.

Check back (hopefully) soon for my review of Black Mould and The Hanging Tree!