I had been on “The God of Small Things” for about three months now. Never have I took more than a month for a book and I realised that this is a problem I wish to address.
Yes, I am unable to finish it because I’ve lost the urge to enjoy this book. I do not dislike it ; I am unable to hold my concentration and sometimes in between pages, I find myself checking my phone or even zoning out. I’ve put away these red flags for a good three months before finally acknowledging that there are some books that are not meant for me to enjoy, and Arundhati Roy’s bestseller happens to be one of them. She is an amazing writer without doubt, & I deeply grieve about not being able to fully appreciate her benign story-telling.
With that being done, I immediately pulled out all of my books that a) I have never touched b) I ditched halfway and c) books that I’ve read and I couldn’t remember because I wasn’t appreciating the writing. I surprised myself when the stack was complete ; there were at least a dozen books towering.
It didn’t take me long to make a decision as I ran my fingers down the spines of every forlorn-looking book from the stack. Instead of putting them back on the shelf, I decided to put them back in my “yet to read” box. If there is anything I would love to do, I’d love to pick them back again and start from the first page – a second chance.
My hefty stack of “ocstrasized” reads explained to me that there are certain things that we might have allowed to fall but can never part with, things that deserve to go back into the “yet to read” pile because it yearns for a chance. Someday, I might pick up Arundhati Roy again and I’d be soaring to Kerala. Or I may come across Gregory David Roberts whispering “Shantaram” but I do know that I’d pick them back up someday. We all do.
Tonight, as I progress onto a fresh read, I want to duly apologise to Esthappen and Rahel for unable to keep up with the scenic Kerala. I promised the twins that I’ll see them again.
