Mood: quite proud of myself for staying on task

Currently listening to: Two by Ryan Adams

Ok, the title has nothing to do with my writing. On that front, totally happy. I’m on track word count wise, and am moving forward scene wise. Still at the funeral. I realized, I don’t really have any HAPPY scenes in this story. Now, I get why Sara recommended that I read The Bell Jar. Really, I’m generally a happy person, but I’m beginning to realize you wouldn’t get that from this story. God, when my friends/family finally read this I’m constantly going to be explaining myself…No, I don’t need to see a therapist. I’m not writing about me. I just have an over active imagination…Aye!

Anyways. The title actually has to do with my current read. As I mentioned I’m not liking Jonathan Lethem’s You Don’t Love Me Yet. I know I said I was just going to do a reading binge and get it over with, but when it came down to it, I couldn’t sit for more than 30-minutes with it. So, I’m slowly plugging away at it in 30-minute or less chunks. But today, I made a big mistake. I read the reviews for it. Why I didn’t do this earlier is beyond me? Acutally, I do know why I didn’t. Generally, I’m not someone who takes a reviewer’s word or recommendations from friends easily. Sometimes I look for author’s I know, but honestly, for the most part, I do judge a book by it’s cover. Probably not the best criteria. But that’s what grabs me. Before I buy it, I do subject the book in question to a few more screening criteria: I’ll read the blurb, and if I like that then I’ll go on and read the first paragraph and a couple paragraphs from a chapter in the middle. If I like the sound of the story from the blurb and the writing style from the random paragraphs, then I buy it. This criteria has seldom failed me & helped me find some obscure gems. But in this case, I actually wish I had read the reviews, because the cover, blurb, and random paragraphs failed me in this case. I never would have picked it up or bought it. Lethem has written some well received novels. This, his latest, is not one of them and apparently is not reflective of his other work. And I’m suffering for picking up the wrong book to get acquianted with him. The positive: at least I now know that I’m not the only one out there who thinks it’s a mixture of annoying and tedious. The negative: I now have confirmation that this book sucks, and that I’m not just in one of my moods. Still, I refuse to let another book join the unread pile. So, I will continue, even though I really don’t want to. I’m just thinking ahead, there’s an end in sight. As soon as I’m done, I can move on to something new–Murdoch’s The Bell–and crossing my fingers that it’s better. It has to be.

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