Saturday, August 02, 2008

Unfinished thoughts

Saturday Mornings, a cup of coffee and a book. I am reading the chapter in which one of the protagonists mulls over books bought but never read. Which sit on the shelf, staring at you, sometimes angrily and sometimes pleading. I have many books of that kind. But I hope that one day, I will have given them away to someone who may turn their pages, slowly.

This particular book I have been reading for three weeks now, but have read only 173 pages so far. Not because it is a boring book, but because it is one of the most engaging books I've read in a long time. I am 'savouring' it.

But there is another book on which I might have spent the same amount of time, and read the same number of pages. But never completed the book. The name of that book is 'A Suitable Boy. By Vikram Seth. It is a book I have borrowed from the library many times, kept at my house through the loan period, and once even beyond. But I still cannot get beyond its first few pages. And then I find out the she has tried to read the same book four times, but each time got only as far as page 80.

It is too fat, the book. My hands hurt when I carried it from the library to home, and that took much of the excitement away. After that, I've tried to read it only to be able to keep up in conversations. but I have matured since then. If I cannot finish a book, it is acceptable. Trying to finish it would be like dragging a bad relationship. The sooner we part ways, the better.


manuscrypts said...

i've a few 'i'll read someday' books too.. but as i read more, i find i can distinguish better, what gets into that category.. and there are at least a couple of books which i had picked up long ago, left them lil read, read later and said 'thank god i didnt read it earlier.. it makes so much sense now ' :)

Sqrl/TA said...

Manu, yeah..seems to me that as we grow older, we certainly are more confident about the choices we make.

Also, there are those books you read as a kid and LOVE but when you read them as a grown up, they just lose their magic somehow. some of Enid Blyton's books are like that for me...