A Life Of Fiction XLI

For those of you new to this WordPress site, this site is about me and my writing – and a little about my role-playing, as well. It gives readers a chance to sample my work before purchasing it on the Kindle store; and gives me the chance to say a little about the genesis of each novel, or about the process of writing in general.

All the books I’ve never read: In previous posts, I have sometimes recommended books which I liked. In so doing, I have always recommended books which I have read – and read all of the way through, and not put aside without being completed. I would never recommend a book which I had not read myself, or critique a novel with which I was not familiar.

There are a great number of books which I have bought, intending to read, but not yet got around to reading. I promise that I will read them, one day, honestly. I don’t buy books just to take up space on my shelves.

A lot of these books include ones which have been hailed as classics. I can’t say whether they are, or not – because I haven’t read them. All the books I’ve never read include:

Don Quixote by Cervantes: I have twice bought copies of this novel, intending to read it all of the way through. Ah, what do they say about good intentions? Anyway, I get through where Don Quixote sets out with Sancho Panza, and the bit about tilting at windmills, which is very funny. But, gradually, as the novel continues, the adventures which Don Quixote gets into seem a bit similar.

I do intend to return to this at some stage, and finish it off, as I hate leaving anything unfinished. But it is now way down my ‘to do’ list.

Great Expectations by Charles Dickens. Charles Dickens was the great Victorian man of letters. He was a genius. But I still can’t get into his works. The only one of his which I have completed is A Christmas Carol. This is another novel which I began, but never managed to complete – and I did begin reading it with great expectations on my part. But I gave up some three quarters of the way through the novel, after it failed to hold my interest. I no longer cared what happened to Pip.

Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackeray. It’s a big, thick book, and I prefer shorter novels, ones where I don’t have my attention wander halfway through (my fault, the result of the mental breakdown which I had). I haven’t even started this novel, and I really should have by now, considering how many years I have owned it. it sits there, one the shelf, among other books, taunting me, telling me that I will never get around to reading it. I have not even started it yet.

Cell by Stephen King. I started this book, and I am a big Stephen King fan. But there was something about the basic premise which rubbed me the wrong way, and I stopped reading it. This is one which I will return to at some stage, though. I can’t have a Stephen King novel

Those books, above, are the ones which irk me by the fact that I have never been able to finish them. Of course there are many, many more books which I have never read, of the millions of books which are published each year. But most of those books disappear without trace, anyway.

I have a lot more books on my shelves which I have not read other than the ones above. There is Leviathan by Thomas Hobbes; To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee; The Sea by John Banville; The Incredible Shrinking Man by Richard Matheson; The Shipping News by Annie Proulx; and others. I will get around to reading them, one day, if I live long enough. I’m not sure when that day will be, though.

The poetry gets read, although in a slapdash fashion, as I tend to dip into poetry collections when I feel like it. I have collections where I have not read all of the poems, though, but only some of them. But I will eventually get to read all of Tennyson’s poems.

I think that is far enough on all the books which I have never read.


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