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Easing into this quiet Saturday, the morning dove coos in the background as I update my books read/in process list in Evernote. It’s where I keep titles and dates because I want to be able to have another spot to look back at my progress and see what pulled me in and when. I quickly scan over the 2014 list and am happy to see the long list of books, most completed, some left unfinished with short notes as to why I abandoned the book. Many titles I’ve forgotten about, but when I see them, I remember the stories and feel happy that I entered so many different places, met many characters, laughed, cried, felt deeply touched at times, connected.

And then there are some titles, that when I see them, I do remember the title itself, but not a thing about the story or characters. This bothers me. I know that I’m not alone in this. But I wonder why there are some stories that go forgotten, as though we never read them, never encountered the characters or their experiences. There are books on the list that I cannot forget and that from time to time I remember when something occurs in my day to draw it back. There are stories that I’ve wished that I could love, stories that sounded like they’d be fantastic, but because of whatever reason, maybe the style didn’t fit with my mode of receiving or maybe I didn’t like how the dialogue was going. Sometimes it’s so subtle. I know when I simply can’t enter a book even though I want to because it feels like it could have been, but never was–at least not for me.

One book in particle that I see on my list that I wanted to love is The Reading Promise by Alice Ozma and Jim Brozina. I’ve attempted to finish this book at least three times. How could I not be lured to the end by a memoir of a young girl and her Librarian father who make a pact to read aloud for 100 nights?

Last I updated my notes in Evernote, I left off on page 71. Usually if I begin a book, and it’s completely and utterly pulled me in, I will finish it; and I’m usually reading several books at one time, dipping in and out of where ever I want to be in the moment. I did like the book. There were parts that stood out and kept me going, but there was something about it, that kept me from wanting to continue. I feel that because I love books and libraries, I will need to finish this book one day. I need to keep going and continue where I left off no matter what. I used to keep a spreadsheet of my book reactions. I stopped doing that, but have been wanting to get back to it. I don’t usually make many notes in Evernote, but for this book, I wrote “Interesting but too many other books to read right now.” That was back in September of 2014.

So that gives me a sense and brings me back to thinking that maybe the book just felt a little bit too slow for me and maybe it felt like it would be a memoir told from an adult perspective, and it is, but it often felt like it was told from her younger self, which I suppose I wasn’t expecting. So when I enter the book again at some later time, I have to remember to enter it on its own and try to suspend my judgment until I reach the end.

The morning dove stopped cooing for a while, but I hear that he is back. His coo is a welcome sound that immediately brings calm to this morning, makes me stop to follow my breath.

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