30-11: When Failure Becomes An Option

I fail at a lot of things. To name a few:

1. Baking cookies. They just don't like me.
2. Somersaults. They hurt my head.
3. Refinishing furniture. I end up running out of patience.

And apparently, finishing dry autobiographies of Jewish ghetto policemen.

I've tried. And tried. And tried. And I just can't. I can't finish this book. I couldn't even get to the middle of it. And I REALLY want to hear Calel Perechodnik's justification for becoming a ghetto policeman.

I bought this book at a thrift store; it intrigued me. I thought, "This is a really great book. I'm excited to read it. It is definitely an unusual topic."

Ten pages in...."Oh man, Calel's writing style is awful. He flits here and there, not staying on topic for very long, never fully explaining things."

Stop. Rethink. "Okay, he was writing this in his last days, so obviously he had to get it done quickly. Let's try it again."

Review the ten pages, add two more..."Ugh. I can't do this. Does it get any better?"

Stop. Rethink. "I really want to get to the part when the Nazis come in, so maybe it's like The Gunslinger where you kind of just push through it before you get to the good part."

Review the twelve pages, add three more..."I'm done."

So, there it sits on the edge of my bookshelf, waiting for me to take it to the donation center. It mocks me every time I walk past it. "You are a failure. You can't even finish me. You don't even know if I get better or not. I probably don't get better, but now you'll never know."

You know what? I can accept it. I choose failure because dang it, I want to read a book that I like! Is that too much to ask?!