A couple of days ago, we went to the pub for a beer and a band. The band was passable but attention wandered and we fell to talking about books. Amongst our company was a writer by the name of Kent Barker whose company I enjoy and whose opinion I value. I can't remember how we got around to it but I happened to mention that I really could not get into Larsson's "The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo". Now, Kent is not one hide his feelings and I was treated to such a lavish eulogy to this book that I thought at first that he was making sport of me. But no. Both he and my normally loyal wife railed against my poverty of understanding when it comes to this apparent masterpiece. How could I not enjoy it? What kind of a bottom feeder was I? I mean, I've had disagreements based upon taste but I was given to feel that I was so far off the mark with this one that my only course of action was to get myself sectioned.
It wasn't as if I gave up too soon. I think a third of the way into a book that held no interest for me either as literature or simple tale, is a pretty bold attempt. None could accuse me of not trying. I reckon that's more than I managed of Lord Of The Rings or Dune before chucking in the towel.
Perhaps I will give it another go for the sake of argument and this time I shall make notes. That way I'll be able to counter any attack that casts doubt upon my integrity as a reader of taste and discernment.
It wasn't as if I gave up too soon. I think a third of the way into a book that held no interest for me either as literature or simple tale, is a pretty bold attempt. None could accuse me of not trying. I reckon that's more than I managed of Lord Of The Rings or Dune before chucking in the towel.
Perhaps I will give it another go for the sake of argument and this time I shall make notes. That way I'll be able to counter any attack that casts doubt upon my integrity as a reader of taste and discernment.
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