Most writers read books. Lots of books. I used to be that sort of writer myself, but I wandered away from it over the years. Once retired, I did step up my reading – even had a blog post about it here – but I still felt I was falling short of some imaginary requirement. Since I’d been hearing about reading challenges, I decided to create one for myself with the goal of at least one book a month. A lot of people read way more than a dozen books a year, but I figured twelve was a reasonable expectation for a lapsed reader such as myself.
I won’t bore you with the entire laundry list of books I read throughout the year, but here’s a sampling:
March
Category: Local Author
Book: An Honest Man by Michael Koryta
This is the 5th book I’ve read by this author, and I thoroughly enjoyed the story. Koryta just happens to be the son of an acquaintance of mine, and I had the pleasure of meeting him at a book signing and shaking his hand. Not only was it cool to chat with him, but I learned he knows my very favorite author – Stephen King – so now I’ve decided we’re all best friends. You know…because of that whole “Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon” thing.
May
Category: Banned Books
Book: The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway
For whatever reason, I felt like I was slogging through it, but it was actually a pretty good story. I watched the movie afterward and liked it better than the book. That isn’t usually the case because I generally think movies fall short of the books they’re based on. While I did enjoy the movie more, I probably would have had trouble following parts of it if I hadn’t read the book first.
July
Category: Classic Literature
Book: Moby Dick by Herman Melville
To say this book was highly descriptive would be a gross understatement. While I do expect enough detail to bring a story to life, I felt like I was drowning in it as I trudged through this tome. (You can read my full rant at the end of this essay.)
August
Category: Unknown (to me) Author
Book: The Handmaid by Freida McFadden
The story was fairly compelling, but I didn’t care much for the way it was written. I’m not sure if that was because it’s written in first-person or if I just don’t care for the author’s writing style. This doesn’t mean the book is bad; it just means it wasn’t my cup of tea.
September
Category: Published in 1955 (My Birth Year)
Book: 79 Park Avenue by Harold Robbins
While I’d certainly heard of him, I’d never before read anything by Robbins. Not knowing what I’d think of his writing, I wasn’t inclined to lay out money for one of his books, so I chose this one since it was free on Kindle Unlimited. After reading it – actually while reading it – I silently apologized to the author for my cheapskate attitude. The story drew me in almost immediately, and it was written in a way that allowed me to easily watch it on my brain screen. And as with all other books that have captivated me, I didn’t want it to end. Before I made it to the final page, I had already looked it up online to see if there was a movie version. There was, so of course, I watched it. It wasn’t bad, but as often happens, it paled in comparison to the book.
December
Category: Winter
Book: Dead of Winter by Darcy Coats
This was an anticlimactic way to end my reading challenge. The book was written by another new-to-me author, and similar to the August selection, hers was a writing style I just didn’t care for. The bigger downside, though, was the fact that this was supposed to be a mystery, yet I figured out whodunit way before the ending. I found the author’s “twist” to be a bit of a straight line. Trust me, I do not have a mystery-solving brain, so this was definitely a disappointment.
As promised earlier – or perhaps “threatened” would be a more apt term – I’ll expound on my opinion of Moby Dick. In a nutshell, I found Herman Melville’s predilection for detail absolutely painful. The article linked below helped me realize that I wasn’t alone, and having to struggle my way through this monstrosity didn’t mean I was an illiterate imbecile:
Why “Moby-Dick” is Awful – The Junction Journal (wordpress.com)
As one commenter put it, “I think the real symbolism here is Ahab’s hatred of the white whale symbolizes the reader’s hatred of his book. I hated this book in the same way Ahab hated the whale.”
I’m not one for waxing philosophical or doing a deep dive into relentless descriptions. And sadly for me, in order to fully embrace this book, both of those traits are necessary. Someone with an immense level of curiosity might very well love all that. I am not one of those people.
Obviously, a certain amount of detail is required in order for the reader to become immersed in a story. But the amount of description and back-story I need doesn’t come anywhere close to what Melville dumped into Moby Dick. I’m fully aware I’m exposing my utter lack of literary sophistication here, but I honestly just wanted to read about a huge white whale and the men who tried to capture him. And to quote Forrest Gump, “That’s all I have to say about that.”
Even though I thought some of the books were duds, I’m glad I followed through on my self-imposed challenge. I don’t even begrudge Melville’s torture. At least I can say I read a much-loved (by others) classic.
I’m also pleased to say I exceeded my 12-book goal. When all was said and done, I read 22 books this year. I can’t claim many were deep and thought-provoking, but they sure did keep me entertained.
LIKE BOOKS?
I’m pleased to share that my first three novels are available on Amazon.
For information and purchase options, click here.