It’s not you. It’s not me. Well, ok it’s both of us.
Have you ever met another reader who you loved, socially, but just couldn’t meet eye to eye with on books?
In friendships, in loving relationships, in family relationships, I am all for working out differences. In terms of reading relationships, I think that if it’s not working, it’s just not working.
I noticed, a while ago, that a friend was taking an extra long time to read the books I had given to her. I also noticed that the books she had given to me were collecting dust. Now, usually, I’ll give most books a chance. I tend not to discount things on summary or cover, alone, but I’m not terribly interested in chick lit nor am I all that into things that go bump in the night. And really, I don’t count Dan Brown as literature. This about makes up said friend’s style choice.
It turns out that if that is that case, it works, or rather, doesn’t work, in the other direction. Tana French, Hunger Games, existential ist ramblings and historical fiction were duds when gifted her way. She didn’t even crack them open.
Where I used to be offended on both ends (“Ugh, how could she not like Sartre?”or “What is she saying about me that she wants me to read Dan Brown? Is she saying I’m a moron?”) I am, finally, coming to a point of irreconcilable differences. I read a lot and I read a fairly wide variety. I think that’s why it has taken me so long to understand and become comfortable with the fact that we have to just, peacefully, call it quits.
Thank you for understanding and listening to my ramblings.