Here I am on my day off.
I just finished twenty pages of one book,
and here I am watching The Breakfast Club.
I'm stuck.
I'm in the middle of these two books, and I'm bored out of my mind.
Yet -
despite the fact that I have seven+ recently purchased books sitting on my shelf
taunting me -
I cannot move past them just yet.
So I read twenty pages at a time.
Inching along.
Prolonging my fictive misery.
Blech.
What do I do?
Move on?
Power through?
Stop whining and do something active?
Please advise me.
Here are the two books I'm stuck in.
The Soloist, by Steve Lopez
It's the good and true story of a journalist who meets a Julliard-educated homeless man playing a violin with two strings.
He befriends this man, writes an article, and begins a journey with him.
Mental health,
classical music,
the state of the homeless in Los Angeles,
and the unsteady friendship between two men make for an interesting read, right?
Wrong.
Sure, the content is fantastic, but Mr Lopez's writing style is... bland.
Knowing him to be a journalist, and this to be his own story, I was anticipating something more along the lines of a Tuesdays with Morrie a la Mitch Albom.
With Lopez, I'm hardly engaged.
There was a movie based on this book a few years back, starring Robert Downey Jr and Jamie Foxx.
Even when I saw it in theatres, the premise was so good, but the movie was slow.
Not as slow as this book.
Egghhhhh 170 pages left.
Death Comes to Pemberley, by P.D. James
It's a natural choice. The sequel to Austen's classic Pride and Prejudice.
I ought to love everything about it.
But I don't.
P.D. James may be a brilliant crime writer and important person in literature.
But, for all I know, this book doesn't work.
The vivid personalities Austen introduced to the world fall lifeless (no pun intended) under James's pen.
I may only be fifty pages in, so perhaps I've got to give her a break and a chance, but I don't want to.
Meh. Another I want to finish, but I'm so bored!
