El Dugan

My mom and I had lunch today, which is a nice perk of working at home. We went to this newish place called Jam which Big A and I couldn’t get a seat at on a brunch day but was lovely and nearly empty on a weekday. I had a trout quiche. Very good.

Anyway, when we get together we usually exchange the books we have been reading and talk about them a little. She is all into the Stieg Larsson series, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, being the first of the three. (There will only be three. Stieg Larsson died after turning in the trilogy. Very sad. He was quite a writer and a dedicated journalist.) She also read the Lorrie Moore book I gave her an highly recommended, A Gate at the Stairs, and was into the Margaret Atwood that I also loved, The Year of the Flood. I just read those two and another really really good book from the Outlander series, and I am feeling seriously spoiled by good writing, excellent and interesting characters, wonderful plots and good sentences.

I told her I had been waiting for her to give me the Dragon Tattoo book, and was reading in the meantime, The Mists of Avalon. I didn’t even get to tell her what I thought of it when she gasped and said, “Oh that book is wretched!” Mom is never one to hold back her opinion.

I couldn’t agree more, and for some reason, I was forcing myself to read it. All the sudden, I had permission to stop. Yeah Mom!

I guess The Mists of Avalon is one of the cannon of geek/fantasy reading that I missed back when that kind of reading was more palatable to me. It is a much beloved book, and is the King Arthur legends from the women’s point of view. That sounds interesting, doesn’t it?

It isn’t. At least not this version of that idea. (Not unlike Pride and Prejudice done with dragons, which I started but didn’t finish. Interesting idea. Bad execution.)(No, I haven’t read the zombies version. Probably won’t.)

I was slogging through this book, waiting for it to be interesting or exciting or good reading. I made it about 68 pages and usually I give a book 100 or so, but somehow, my mom confirming this book was shite is letting me stop now. I am so happy! My book list is long. Very very long, and growing ever longer, never shorter, no matter how much I read. It can be very disheartening to waste time on books that suck, even only 100 pages of them. I know Doc Scooter, for one, feels me here.

Sometimes it’s okay to break your personal book rules, which are in place for a good reason and have helped you get to the good part of some very rewarding books, and it’s okay to let your mom give you that permission.

And the weird thing is, I really do worry about these things. Not giving a book a fair shake. Quitting too soon and missing something wonderful. And, of course, the looming specter of my book list. Nerd.