From the comments in my recent post on books I couldn't finish, I am, first of all, glad that I am in good company. The consensus seems to be:
- life is too short, we want to read books that mean something to us;
- these books didn't live up to expectations that came with recommendations or reviews or other reasons that made us keen on reading them.
Before the days of accessible reviews, I used to browse libraries and bookstores and would pick up whatever book that looked interesting. I've come across quite a few books that I ended up liking a lot. Two books I remember are Child of My Heart by Alice McDermott and Dream Me Home Safely, edited by Susan Richards Shreve.
It was a great feeling, this discovering something for myself. Having said that, I've also had books that lived up to their high expectations: What Was Lost; Lovely Bones, Penderwicks.
On an aside, usually I watch movies with some idea of what they're about, except when I saw The Crying Game. Yes, I was one of the twelve people in America totally surprised by The Twist.
Anyway, back to books. How do expectations play in your reading? Do you have books that you discovered purely on your own and love? What about It Books that didn't disappoint? Do share.