I couldn't finish it

I was reading another writer's blog the other day and there was comment from some anonymous poster, off-topic, about why he couldn't finish that author's most recent novel, and actually returned it to the bookstore where he bought it because of "lazy writing." Besides the weirdness of returning a book half-read, and then going on to read the author's blog -- not to mention the fact that the book in question was categorically excellent, the writing not the least bit lazy -- this post caught my attention.

I'm always interested in why people give up halfway through a book. Almost all of us have dropped out of novel midway through it for one reason or another. For me there's always a vague sense of shame -- I've been meaning to finish Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell for the past two years -- but as a writer it's worth asking, at what point do you just give up and go onto the next one? And in the end, what's the last straw, and does it depend on the stage in your life when you're reading it? Back in college I actually threw a copy of Norman Mailer's Tough Guys Don't Dance against a wall. Since then I've gone on to read and love it and bought it in hardcover. The opposite of this phenomena may be the book that you don't particularly like, but feel compelled to finish just so you can see how it ends. Both Chasing the Dead and Eat the Dark got reviews like this from Amazon readers who had serious problems with the plot, characters and theme, but finished them anyway. I always feel a little bit better when I hear that...I must have done something right.

For me, a book -- whether I'm reading it or writing it -- needs to do something a little different as it approaches the halfway point, to up the ante and subvert some expectation I've developed along the way. I can feel a writer spinning his wheels, building fake suspense (or sticking slavishly to some preconceived outline) and the momentum deflates, leaving me high and dry with a book I couldn't give a shit about. I'd always rather have the writer seem to go a little mad at the midway point, seeming to risk more than is actually advisable, and when this happens I feel a familiar thrill of recognition. As a writer I've been there plenty of times, that moment when your toes no longer touch the bottom and you actually panic a little before heading instinctively toward what's next. It's the books that hug the shore and do what's expected that I usually end up letting drift away. Of the three books I mentioned in my previous post, I've finished two. The third I already know I'll never finish, even though I could do it in an hour or two. There's just too much out there that I'd rather read.

On that note, may I suggest that anyone reading this post do themselves a favor and pre-order Mark Henry's forthcoming Happy Hour of the Damned, due out next month. This book was shamefully omitted from a list of books I'm hotly anticipating in 2008, although that's not quite accurate, since I devoured my advance copy wqay back in '07. But that doesn't matter. What's important is that Happy Hour has an awesome, totally original voice and a kickass heroine who will, I think, win a huge and loyal audience of readers very quickly. You need to order this book now.

It's definitely one you'll finish.