I have been a voracious reader ever since I was a child. While I was in primary school, my dad would take me to the public library on a weekly basis. As a child, you were only allocated two cards, that allowed you to check out two books. Eventually my dad was loaning me some of his cards — I think he eventually convinced them to give me a stack of my own cards, but I’m a bit hazy on the detail — and I was taking out 5-8 books at a time, reading everything during the following week, and getting new ones every weekend. I eventually slowed down by the time I moved on to high school, but I still had at least one novel in my school bag at all times.
I read everything I could get my hands on from cover to cover. I would never not finish reading a book. It always felt like sacrilege to me to not finish a book. That is, until very recently. I can only imagine that it is because I am getting older, and less patient with things, but in terms of authors, I have reached a stage where I can no longer suffer fools. My streak ended with my attempt at reading Dan Brown’s Inferno. It was my wife who suggested that I put it aside. I think she was getting annoyed with my muttering and sighs of disdain as I read through the drivel. Eventually I took her advice, and put the book aside, and moved on to the next one. I now apply the “Several Chapters” rule to each book I read. This works very similar to the “10 Minute” rule for movies. If I can’t get in to the book or get annoyed with it several chapters in, I put it aside. I’m getting older. My time is getting shorter. I really couldn’t be bothered to further waste my time on things that annoy me.