Guilt reading

My mother and sister recently recommended a book that's gotten great reviews all over the place. So I checked it out of our local library and started reading it a month ago. I'm on about page 50. In fact, I had to renew it because I had made so little progress.

I think it's a good book. At least I think I think that. I haven't really read enough to say for sure. The narrator is charming. The concept is great. There's mystery and intrigue. (Really, what's the difference between mystery and intrigue? They always show up together and I'm pretty sure they're the same thing.) And I would imagine it's on a reading group list or two out there.

But I just cannot for the life of me get into it.

After college, I went on a serious "serious" rampage. I rented foreign movies until our video store ran out of ones I hadn't seen. (For the record, Gerard Depardieu will forever be my favorite foreign-film star, although I haven't completely forgiven him for "My Father the Hero.") I read a lot of the classics that even my English major never required me to read. In short, I tried my darnedest to be an intellectual.

Confession: I'm not. I'm not an intellectual. Most reading-group books bore me. I can't sit still through symphonies. PBS documentaries are almost always a form of torture for me. I hyperventilate at old news reels. The ballet suffocates me. If you string together too many 4- to 5-syllable words at once, my eyes are going to glaze over. I'll never break eye contact, but I can't promise I'll be "there."

*long heavy sigh*

I feel much better now. Thanks for letting me get that off my chest.

So I'm going to return that book to the library and let someone else benefit from it. I'm sure I'll go back to it at some point, because I'm sure it's good for me, just like broccoli and brown rice are good for me. I might not love them, but I'll eat them. But between meals involving either of them, I'm going to have to indulge in crusty white bread and sharp cheddar cheese and any blend of peanut butter and chocolate.

Tonight's reading? Something along the lines of a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup. And I won't feel bad about it. Confession is good for the soul.