Life's Too Short to Finish a Book You Hate
I'm going to say something that probably shouldn't be controversial.
You're allowed to stop reading a book.
There.
I said it.
You can close it.
Put it down.
Return it to the shelf.
Give it away.
Whatever needs to happen.
You do not need to suffer through another 274 pages just because you've already suffered through the first 126.
And yet...
Why is DNFing a book so bloody hard sometimes?
"Maybe it gets better…"
This is the trap.
You're 80 pages in and you're not enjoying it.
But you've heard good things.
Everyone seems to love it.
Maybe you're missing something?
So you keep going.
Another 50 pages.
Still nothing.
"It might pick up soon."
Another 50.
Nope.
Now you're too far in.
You've invested all this time.
Surely you can't quit now.
So there you are, three nights later, using your precious reading time to force yourself through a book you don't even want to pick up.
Why do we do this to ourselves?
I don't have enough reading time to waste it
This is probably why I've become much more comfortable with DNFing.
My reading time is precious.
I'm a mum to an energetic toddler. I work. I run a small business. There's dinner, cleaning, family life and the approximately 7,000 other things adulthood apparently requires.
On a good night, I get about 30 minutes tucked up in bed with my book.
That's my escape.
I want to disappear into another world for a little while.
I want to wonder what's around the corner.
I want to tell myself one more chapter and then immediately break that promise.
What I don't want to do is spend those 30 minutes thinking:
"God, I really don't want to read this."
That's not an escape.
That's homework.
And I already did school.
DNF doesn't mean the book is bad
This was something I had to get my head around.
Putting a book down doesn't necessarily mean:
THIS BOOK IS TERRIBLE AND NOBODY SHOULD EVER READ IT.
Sometimes a book just isn't for you.
Maybe you don't connect with the characters.
Maybe the writing style isn't your thing.
Maybe it's moving too slowly.
Maybe you've discovered that particular type of story just isn't your cup of tea.
Or maybe it's actually a perfectly good book...
and you're simply not in the mood for it right now.
That happens too.
A book can be loved by thousands of people and still do absolutely nothing for you.
You're allowed to have your own taste.
That's half the fun of being a reader.
But I paid for it!
Yep.
This one hurts.
Especially when you bought the beautiful hardcover.
You were excited.
You'd seen people talking about it.
You brought it home.
Added it to the shelf.
Finally started reading it...
And you hate it.
So now your brain says:
"Well, I paid $35 for this bloody thing. I'm finishing it."
Except the money has already been spent.
Finishing a book you hate doesn't magically put the $35 back into your bank account.
Now you've spent the money and several hours being miserable.
Excellent financial strategy.
At some point, you have to cut your losses.
Put it down.
Give it to a friend who might love it.
Donate it.
Sell it.
Let someone else discover their new favourite book.
And go find yours.
Your TBR is probably enormous anyway
Mine has around 150 unread books on it.
ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY.
There are entire worlds sitting on my shelves that I haven't stepped into yet.
Characters I'm going to love but haven't met.
Plot twists waiting to ruin my evening because apparently going to sleep at a sensible time is optional when a book gets good.
So why would I spend a week forcing myself through something I'm not enjoying when all of that is waiting for me?
This is where the guilt starts looking a little ridiculous.
I'm not quitting reading.
I'm quitting one book so I can go read another one.
You don't get a medal for finishing it
Nobody arrives at your house when you turn the final page.
There's no ceremony.
No certificate.
Nobody announces:
"Congratulations. Despite enjoying absolutely none of that, Sarah persevered through all 487 pages."
Although actually...
I'd probably attend that ceremony.
There'd better be snacks.
But you get my point.
Reading isn't an endurance event.
At least, it doesn't have to be.
If pushing through difficult books is something you genuinely enjoy, brilliant.
Do it.
If you're studying something and need to finish it, that's obviously different.
But the book you're reading at night because you wanted some time for yourself?
You get to choose.
I think we need to celebrate DNFs a little more
This is why I actually like recording books I DNF.
It feels weirdly satisfying.
Instead of pretending the book never happened, I can acknowledge it:
Tried it. Wasn't for me. Moving on.
Done.
No guilt.
And yes, there's a place for DNFs in Tales in Ink for exactly that reason.
Because your reading life isn't only made up of five-star favourites and books you dutifully finished.
The abandoned ones are part of the story too.
Sometimes they're even funny to look back on.
"Oh God. THAT book."
You know the ones.
Reading should make you want to come back
This is the bit that matters to me.
When life is busy, it's already easy for reading to disappear.
If the book beside your bed is one you're actively avoiding, you're probably not going to think:
"I can't wait to read tonight."
You'll find something else to do.
Scroll your phone.
Watch something.
Go to sleep.
Suddenly you haven't read for a week.
Not because you stopped loving reading.
You just weren't loving that book.
So put it down.
Go back to your shelf.
Pick something ridiculous.
Pick something easy.
Pick the book you've been saving.
Pick something with dragons.
I support dragons.
Find the thing that makes you want to tuck yourself into bed and disappear again.
Because that's the whole bloody point.
Okay, confession time
I want to hear about the DNF.
You know exactly which one I mean.
The book everyone else seemed to adore.
The one you desperately tried to like.
The one you kept telling yourself would get better.
The one you eventually closed and thought:
"Nope. I'm done."
What book did you DNF — and what finally made you give up?
No judgement.
Unless you say one of my favourites.
Then I make absolutely no promises.