I Don’t Like Books that Make Me Feel Stupid

I’m 200 pages into a book that came highly recommended (no titles here, remember I don’t say negative things about other people’s books).  It is beautifully written.  The settings are picturesque, the fashion is couture, the characters are model-quality exquisite.  Some readers love to immerse themselves in that kind of detail; wrap themselves in mental images of every character’s hair texture and style of underwear (okay…so I’m exaggerating a little).   

While I can recognize the gorgeous language, there are some things about this book (and others I’ve read that I also won’t mention) that make me crazy. For instance:
  • I hate reading a book with a translation dictionary at my side. If I wanted to read French or Latin, I’d pick up a textbook. 
  • I don’t like reading books with no frame of reference.  I’m not Wiccan.  I’m not into the Occult. I don’t frequent fortune tellers.  I’m usually pretty good at picking up nuance, but if you give zero explanation, I have to resort to guessing or google.  And if I have to stop to look something up, I’m not that engaged in the story. 
  • Some stories are nonlinear for a reason.  I haven’t figured out what the point of all the past/present vignettes are in this particular book and it’s frustrating. 
  • When I’m a few hundred pages into a book, my mental plotline should have more than two points.  Seriously.
  • And if this is a love story, I should be able to identify who the freak is in love! 
Now I’m off to go do some detective work.  I have to figure out why people like this novel beyond the pretty sentences.  Wish me luck. 

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