It's relatively unusual for me to start a book and not finish it, but it does happen, especially with non-fiction. Given the volume of reading that I'm going to be doing this semester, though, a few that I'm currently various amounts of the way through look likely to be left hanging. I've already returned Don Quixote to the library, having thoroughly enjoyed its first few chapters but sadly decided that now might not be the best time to read it in its entirety. I'm unsure whether I'll return to Love in the Time of Cholera - seems more likely that I'll leave it for another time. And, for the second time, I'm going to return The Collected Dorothy Parker to the library only partially read.
While I like Dorothy Parker very much, if I'm honest, it's more the idea of her than the woman or her writing themselves which appeals. Her best known verse is deliciously cynical and clever but doesn't touch me deeply, and many of her short stories don't resonate (although the acute observation of "The Standard of Living" and the sustained bile of "The Waltz" are both just grand). The reviews and miscellaneous critical essays are something, though - wonderfully, terribly acerbic and knowing, even when she praises something.
Anyhow, usually books/films which I start without finishing don't rate a mention on this blog, but absolute consistency isn't, after all, a virtue.
