Thursday night I was reading myself to sleep except that I wasn't getting sleepy fast enough. My eyes and head were hurting from my recent fainting spell, so I had to put the book away before I was sleepy. As I lay there, waiting on sleep, I suddenly thought, I think this book is boring me. I've been reading Snow for a few weeks now, and I thought I was enjoying it. Now, I'm not so sure. I think it's moving too slowly--moving like the snow falls, softly, quietly--but I don't read books for plot, so a slow moving books isn't necessarily a loser for me. I wanted to like this book.
I'm not going to give up on it yet. Maybe it's just book lust. Or maybe it's my new bookshelves--moving books around makes one more aware of all the books waiting to be read. Or maybe it's a cultural thing since I know nothing about the Turkish culture described in the book. Or maybe the book is boring to me. I just don't know, but I have trouble giving up on a book. I will give it a few more chapters, I guess.