Not Finishing A Book...

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I didn't know much about Richard Wright's Native Son, but when I saw it available at the library, I downloaded the audiobook and thought I'd give it a listen.

I don't know if I'm going to finish it.

That's a strange thought, I think, coming from someone who reads a lot of varied genres, and perhaps more importantly, enjoys reading a lot of varied genres. The writing (what I did read...) is first-rate and a story of a black man set in 1940 New York City is more than compelling. I read the blurb about the story before I began and as the story unfolded, I knew this book was about a murder.

But when the narration came to the actual murder, I didn't want to continue. I thought this odd. I've read books about murder and it hasn't fazed me. I've read (and enjoyed...) horror stories from Michaelbrent Collings and Stephen King. Sometimes I get a little uncomfortable reading them, but something about this one just turned my stomach a little more than usual. Had I known I'd have this reaction, I probably would not have downloaded it.

The thought of "why" I didn't want to finish it stayed with me as I left work and boarded a bus to come home. I guess it's because I didn't want that story to become part of me, even though it's a part of humanity. There's a lot of humanity I don't want to become part of my consciousness. 

Those of you who have read this book may suggest I finish it--just get through the uncomfortable parts so I can appreciate this man's book. I might, but as it stands right now, I don't think I will. There's just too many things that bring a different spirit to me--so many, in fact, that I will never get through them all. 

* Photo used without permission from: https://www.goodreads.com/book/photo/15622.Native_Son