Open Thread: Books You’ve Been Stalling?
We All Have Books We Can’t Work up the Energy to Start
Some books lay claim to parts of our mind and memory, as if they pay rent on a room or two in our head. These are the books you come back to, the ones that change your thinking in deep and abiding ways. But not always; they might also be the books you keep putting off.
You know what they are.

Somehow I read almost nothing significant in school. All the books you’re supposed to read in high school or college? I read almost none of them. I did read plenty—just other stuff. My interests were almost entirely subsumed by history, politics, and related material. Do you have any idea how much fun economics is?
This preference for one thing and avoidance of another has produced some gaping holes in my development as a human. My saving grace has been that I’ve read widely enough to leave a few bridges over the ravines of my ignorance. As a result, I’m culturally literate and have enough background knowledge to fumble my way across.
At the same time, I decided at some point I would never bluff my way through the exercise. I’ll won’t say I’ve read a book if I haven’t, even if I’m amply informed about it. This means I sometimes look like a flaming ignoramus. No worries. I figure people are welcome to think whatever they want about me.
Yesterday I went walking with a good friend, something I love to do. He’s quite well read. George Eliot, Jane Austen—all the names came up. At one point he mentioned he was re-reading Orwell’s 1984. “You know,” I said, “I’ve never read that.”
And it’s true! I haven’t. Kids read that in high school. Not me. They read it in college. Not me. They read it because they’re curious or cultured. Me? Apparently not enough. I know the book, but I haven’t read it.
This was part of my motivation for the series of classic novel goals I began pursuing a few years ago—a humble attempt to drive a backhoe towards the Grand Canyon of my ignorance and finally nudge a little dirt in the hole. After all, what kind of grown-ass man has never read Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse-Five? What was my excuse for leaving Zora Neale Hurston unexplored? What went so horribly awry in my upbringing that I failed to float my eyes over the pages of Pride and Prejudice?
“This travesty must end!” I said. I’ve been putting off all these books for all these years, and it’s time to finally join society. I already wear pants, feel conflicted about voting, and say “thank you.” What was stopping me from embracing the great inheritance of our civilization? I mean, it’s right there, accessible, available, ready to be enjoyed! The books are practically pleading with us to open them.
And so I did. I started reading classic novels and loved almost every page. What had I been denying myself all these years? I was more than a flaming ignoramus; evidently, I was also a fool. Luckily, it’s not an irreversible condition. All it takes is opening one book and then another and another and . . .
But this still comes up for me. As I admitted the other day, I sometimes have an aversion to long novels. Yes, I’ve read Kristin Lavransdatter. I’ve read Middlemarch. But big-ass classics intimidate me. I feel that heft in my hands and start doing the math on how long it will take me to read them. Suddenly, I get other ideas. Opportunity costs aren’t the fun part of economics, but they’re as real as a bee sting. If I give twenty hours to one book—even if it’s a masterpiece—that’s twenty hours I can’t give to several other worthy books. You’ve got to weigh this stuff.
Now, let’s level with each other. We all know that some of the books we’ve been putting off for one reason or another are great, fantastic, perhaps among the best things we could have read up to that point. I tripped over this in my Notes not too long ago and felt a kinship, the bond of a fellow reader who has missed the boat.
I see you,
. I feel your pain. You are not alone. I fact—to my point in the opening paragraph—I bet everyone here has a book they’ve been putting off, a book they’ve been stalling, avoiding, refusing to make more than furtive eye contact with. It’s on your shelf right now. Everyone you know says you should read it. You feel guilty when you think about it, as if you’re letting yourself down.Well—if I might be so bold—you probably are.
So I put it to you: What book(s) are you avoiding? What titles are you putting off? What are you stalling? Tell us what and why below. After all, we might remember that we’re putting it off too.
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Moby. Dick. 🐋
Moby Dick, Middlemarch, East of Eden.