I recently read a book I didn't love. Yes, this happens often and yes, expecting to love every book you read is asking too much. But this book specifically was one that disappointed me, that I wanted so much to love, or at least to like more than I did. Not only is it by an author I adore and whose previous book is one of my favorites, but the whole premise of what this book was about had me hooked. It sounded exactly like my kind of book.
And then I read it.
And I liked it, don't get me wrong.
But that's it. I didn't love it, didn't really like it. It was just good. I know other people who've read it and loved it; I even sent a text to one of my friends while I was reading it, telling her how iffy I was about the book.
I wanted to love it, but I didn't. I finished, set the book aside, and found it impossible to convince myself that the book was more than what it was. I was hoping to write a rave review and ended up writing a mediocre one, because I can't not be honest in my reviews. I mean, theoretically I could, but I know how much I'd hate myself for it. So instead I wrote an honest review (it'll be up in December) and tried to figure out what about the book stopped me from liking it more than I did.
Was it my expectations? My hopes? Generally I try to erase my hopes and expectations before starting a book because I don't want to be disappointed, but this time I found that difficult to to.
Was it the book? Was the writing not there? No. The writing was definitely there.
The fact is that there was just something missing for me personally. That spark, that invisible connection to a book, that magic pixie dust that makes you love something. If I wrote out everything this book was about -- who wrote it, the subject matter, the setting, the premise -- it would look like my perfect match, a book tailor-made just for me. This, more than anything else, is what makes it so sad to me that I ended up feeling so iffy about this book.
And I have to ask you guys, whether you're bloggers, authors, or just readers - has this ever happened to you? Have you ever read a book that you want to love, that sounds just like something you'd adore, that even afterwards sounds like your kind of book - and just not felt it?
(Also, first person to correctly tell me what the title of this post is a reference to gets +10 Geek Points, which are completely imaginary and arbitrary but also awesome.)