For Love of Books We Didn't Want to Read

We're supposed to talk about books we didn't want to read and then ended up loving and I've got nothing. I'd like to tell you it's because I know my own reading tastes enough that when I don't want to read something, it's because I bloody well know I'm not going to like it and to this point, I've been right. 

Everything I've read that I did not want to read I really didn't like. A few, I detested. The rest were entirely mediocre. I turned into a DNF (Did Not Finish) reader early in my career as a reader - the first book in Stephan Donaldson's Thomas Covenant series cured me of pushing through a story I hated. From that point forward, I figured out that I'd know whether I' be able to stomach a book within the first several pages. Thus began my habit of lurking in the aisles of bookstores reading and flipping through the first couple of pages. 

So it turned out that everything I was forced to read for high school English classes I knew I wouldn't like and only a few who surprised me into appreciating them. (Albert Camus, James Joyce, Joseph Conrad - Shakespeare, even.)

Am I sorry I read any of the books school made me read? A few of them, yes. I was a teenager. I did not need to be reading depressing books. I had a lock on all kinds of angst of my own. I didn't need all these major downer books adding to it. Most of the books, though, I am glad I read. Even if I didn't actively enjoy them. I mean, honestly. Who *reads* Shakespeare? That's not how you learn to appreciate the genius of those texts. It's only in performance of them that you appreciate exactly what Shakespeare did with meter and rhyme to imply stage direction and action.  

If you asked which of the writers I most learned to appreciate as I grew older, I'd say James Joyce - just for the beauty of his words and images. That The Dead was turned into a movie with Angelica Houston in it that mesmerized me helped a lot. NOTHING HAPPENS in that movie. Nothing. And yet. The words were so gorgeous. So I guess that's the story of the book I hadn't wanted to read that ended up pleasantly surprising me - a story I didn't think I actually had. 

You see, I think my brain is melting. I think we might be unexpectedly and sort of accidently be buying a house. O_o Stay tuned. Cause I have no clue how this roller coaster is going to get us back to the safety of solid ground. 

What I want to know is which book (if any) cured you of reading all way to The End in a book you don't like. 

Literary Infamy

EDITED to make actual sense after I appear to have missed the fact that a cat went keyboard surfing and messed up my post. Many thanks to Jeffe for alerting me!

Have you ever made someone else cry with your reading choices? I have that distinction. It was a holiday party and the idea was to bring your favorite book already wrapped. We then did a blind exchange. All the wrapped books were put under the tree, we drew lots and went around picking books. The gal who got mine opened a copy of Guns, Germs and Steel by Jared Diamond - a book I still love for world building. She started to cry. They were not happy tears. To be fair, she's a teacher. Getting a nonfiction book was a little more than she could handle. So yeah. I still feel guilty about that one. Fortunately, someone else wanted the book and offered to trade a historical romance with her. Happy ending.

That's actually my only real brush with literary infamy. My reading tastes are wide ranging and not all that controversial. I'm probably more interesting (or demented) based on the books everyone else likes that I dislike. However. That's another day's navel gaze.

The book(s) that I enjoy that might surprise you are those written by Mr. Chuck Tingle. Oh yes. Space Raptors Butt Invasion. Hugo nominated!

I love Chuck for so many reasons. I mean. What's not to like about a man who so effortlessly and gleefully trolled the ever-living hell out of the Rabid Puppies when they did their damnedest to game the Hugos? So much admiration.

And what's not to love about a mentally ill man finally finding his niche and his joy in writing unlikely homo-erotic and occasionally politically on-point porn shorts?

The stories are fun. They're filled with lovely, unambiguously consenting, enthusiastic sex partners. Perceptions get twisted - in one story a dude falls in love with a handsome building. For several pages of that story, I had to consciously tell my logical brain to shut the hell up - because in my own weird mental world, all inanimate objects have a spirit, which would make them not so inanimate anymore, right? Where do I get off saying it's impossible for a guy to fall in love with a roadside diner and then spend pages having hot sex with it? I like that I have to shove my assumptions about what's possible aside in order to consume the candy this man writes. Besides. There are worse slogans in the world than his: Love is real.