The Give Up Day

I give up.

I really wanted to love The Given Day by Dennis Lehane (see earlier post). Today I decided that I was not enjoying it and should let others get their hands on this highly coveted advance copy. James, a friend/patron, actually did a happy dance at the reference desk today when I showed him the book.

I don't blame Lehane. I honestly believe that, like the same book can mean very different things to different people, the same book can mean different things to you at different times. Books that I reread can reveal layers or subplots I never paid attention to before, or books that I had put down years ago now become new favorites. In other words, it's not YOU, Dennis, it's ME.

Although, this really is a man's book. In the pages I read, I am seeing the social, political and racial unrest in Boston in the 19-teens. But he is showing it with the one thing I HATE to read about: sports. (I even tend to skim the Quiddich matches in Harry Potter.) The entire Prologue of The Given Day is a baseball game. I fell asleep twice. Chapter one is a boxing match. I yawned and felt squeamish at the, "spitting white foam, then gouts of pink." Then there is the cast of characters list - 36 long. And the fact that the book is 704 pages.

So I have pulled out the bookmark and set the book aside. I will return it to Terry, who will pass it on to the next excited Lehane fan. Maybe it's too much pressure, having this tome of a book, toted as a "tour-de-force" before everyone else. Maybe I'll buy a copy at Borders after September 23 like everybody else and read it in my own sweet time.