I have been trying to read Freddy and Fredricka by Mark Helprin for like, forever. At least six weeks, anyway. I was really looking forward to reading it—I’ve heard a ton of reviews that said it was hilarious. All my friends who have read it think it is really awesome. But I think it is incredibly boring. And I think I may have to give up.

I can’t remember the last time I gave up on a book. Sometimes I’ve had a hard time reading a book, and I’ve put it away for a while, read a few other books, and then went back to it later. But I rarely actually give up on finishing a book. So I tried that with this book. When it was due back at the library, I renewed it. And then I renewed it again. It’s sitting on my nightstand, and every time I look at it, I am filled with dread. If I don’t have another book to read, I just don’t read, rather than try to read it. I just keep pretending that one night I’m finally going to be interested in it. But I really don’t think it’s going to happen.

I love reading, and so it’s hard for me to admit that I can’t finish this book. I was an English major, and I had to read Moby Dick over SPRING BREAK! (Tell me that professor wasn’t pure evil.) But I sat on the beach in Florida, with my Pina Colada, and I did what I had to do. I should be able to finish this book!

On the other hand, I read for fun. I’m not doing this for a class, so I should enjoy the things I read. I shouldn’t let it bother me or hurt my pride when I don’t finish a book. I finish plenty of others. And yet I feel guilty. Why?

Regardless of how guilty I feel, the book is due back at the library this week. And I refuse to renew it again. So you win, Freddy and Fredricka. I give up!

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