Quitting is for schmucks.

Well, I'm a schmuck. Just this once I suppose. Typically, I have this very weird habit of never admitting that I could not finish a book or that I just quit reading it and moved on with my life. Instead, I maintain-- for weeks, months, even years-- that I am just "still reading" a book. I have several of these never-enders on my night stand at any given time, and every once in awhile I will actually convince myself that after a 3 year hiatus that I will magically be able to stay awake reading Atonement or Love in the Time of Cholera (neither case has ever been true, but both books have proven to be capable cuddling partners). But, something inside me snapped this week, and I decided to take one off the shelf and just say no... er... just say "I QUIT!"

Hello, my name is Katy, and I have stopped reading The Best American Non-Required Reading 2008 edited by Dave Eggers, Intruduction by Judy Blume.

Now don't get me wrong-- the book wasn't entirely bad. I usually love collections of essays, short stories, chapters, comics, poems, etc. I find that collections like these are sometimes the only thing that can capture my grad-student sized attention span (meaning very small because I'm supposed to be focusing on the three dozen unread journal articles sitting only a few feet away on my desk) and therefore as a "genre", I love collections. And I also adore Dave Eggers. I have read all of his books at least twice and my borderline inappropriate love of his work (and what I imagine he is like in real life) is what drew me to get this book in the first place. And Judy Blume? Hello, what adolescent girl (past, present, or future) has not been able to find her voice after reading just a blurb of Judy Blume's brilliance?

So why am I actually committing to QUITTING this book if all I can say are good things? Well... for one thing, it's freaking 2010. In fact, it's the second half of 2010. Why should I be focusing on the best literature of 2008 if there's just more (and better?) stuff piling up on my nightstand for me to look at? But still, I have clearly known that 2008 is long gone for about 18 months now, and still didn't quite give up. I put the book back on my nightstand and it continued staring me down. "Finish me! Don't give up!" it whispered every night as I would reach past it for something -- dare I say it-- better. So what happened? I answered the call of the book one night. I chose it above all others. I started a new short story and... well.. I just got bored. There. I said it. It just couldn't quite grab my attention and I kept re-reading the same two or three paragraphs night after night, trying to move forward.... somehow, this turned into literally flipping through the rest of the book and skimming random pages of random essays. When I realized that nothing more between the two pretty covers caused me to make a second glance, and that when I tossed the book off of my "to read" pile that I felt NO REMORSE I just knew. It is time to move on.

Whew! I feel liberated.