Do You Refuse To Stop Reading A Book, Even If You Hate It? We Can Relate

by E. Ce Miller
Lucas Ottone/Stocksy

If you’re a fan of Gilmore Girls (aren’t we all?) chances are you’ll well remember that moment when book-lover Rory Gilmore stood on the lawn of one of Harvard University’s many libraries, overwhelmed by the sudden realization that no matter how long she might live, the number of books in the world would always exceed her capacity to read them. “Thirteen million volumes?” she wails, as Lorelai reads aloud from the university guidebook. “I've read like, what, three hundred books in my entire life and I'm already 16? Do you know how long it would take me to read 13 million books?”

In fact: I do. Let’s assume the average (if zealous) book-lover reads a new book every three days. At that rate, it would take approximately 106,907 years to work one’s way through a whopping 13 million volumes. (And you KNOW you’re going to get stuck on Infinite Jest at some point.) Even at a Rory Gilmore-esque reading speed — say, a book a day — that’s still over 35,600 years of reading material. So it’s safe to say that no matter how much you might love and live for books, nobody will ever read every book ever written. Most people probably won’t even read every book they’ve ever wanted to.

Breathe, book lovers. Breathe. And know you’re not alone.

This moment: Rory despairing of the battle between the far-too-short length of the human lifetime and the number of unread books that exist in the world is essentially the space I occupy every waking second of my own life. There are so many books — more practically every day! — and I desperately want to read all (OK, most) of them. Which is why I have a love/hate relationship with my DNF pile.

For anyone not familiar with the world of fancy book-lover acronyms, DNF stands for “did not finish” — aka: the books that you started and, for one reason or another, at some point abandoned. Goodreads — social media for the book obsessed — is filled with users’ virtual DNF bookshelves. (They even have a shelf that keeps track of the most frequently DNFed books on the site.) There are various schools of DNF thought, from the never DNFers to those who DNF with abandon, and plenty of folks who fall somewhere in the tortured, book-loving middle. Librarian and former NPR host Nancy Pearl came up with a “Rule of 50” recommendation: essentially, give a book 50 pages of your time, and if you don’t like it, drop it. Book blogger Hillary Roberts once read 600 pages of a book before DNFing. Others suggest a 10% rule (read 10% of the book before deciding to discard.)

Despite all of this, I am a reluctant DNFer.

Most readers, I think, fall into this category — when you know it’s probably time to DNF a book, but you JUST. CAN’T. DO IT. After all, what if it gets better? What if everyone else loves it? What if the single line that is going to transform your entire relationship with said book is on the very next page? What if the book isn’t the problem, but rather YOU are?

Currently, I have two books in DNF limbo. On a regular basis, I will put them in my books-to-donate pile, only to take them out hours or days later and put them back on my shelves. I have proffered them to a local Little Free Library, only to sneak them out again under the cover of darkness. Sometimes I’ll re-read the first few pages. Never, will I actually see them through to the end. I have been known to place DNFs into library book returns, only to take them back out again before sliding the lid shut. (Seriously, I’ll just stand there, one hand holding the book return open, the other hand lingering mournfully on the rejected title, contemplating the mysteries of the universe and wondering whether or not they’re solved in this book, if only I would finish reading it.) I have, on not one but two occasions, purchased a second copy of a DNFed title I ended up discarding. Not once have I finished a book that spent even a moment in my DNF pile. And yet, I can’t let them go.

But I should let them go. I want to. Life is short and books are long and I should spend my time with the ones I like and love. So from one reluctant DNFer to another, here are seven struggles we all understand and how (I hope) to get over them:


You can’t stop wondering if the book will ever, finally, get better.

Books are not cheese. They don’t always get better with age. Discard.


You’re worried that you might want to finish the book at some point in your life, even if that time is clearly not, even remotely, now.

This is what Amazon Prime is for. In the meantime, clear that shelf space and the mental real estate being occupied by said book.


You’re worried that everyone else has read (and loved) the book and you’ll be left out of the next dinner party conversation.

There are two ways to solve this problem. My preferred option is by simply never going to dinner parties, in favor of staying home to read books I actually enjoy. If you love books like I love books, you don’t even need another solution.


The book is a classic and you’re concerned you’re missing something essential about the human literary experience.

This concern actually has some (albeit, small) merit. If you consider rhetorically sound disdain for a work of literature an essential part of the human literary experience then you might just want to suffer through. Plus, it’ll give you something to talk about at the next dinner party.


You’ve already dedicated so much time to the story — shouldn’t you see it through?

This is my biggest hang up when it comes to DNFing books. So here is my one, steadfast-ish DNF rule: if you feel like you’ve really dedicated a significant amount of time and energy to a book that you absolutely do not want to (but feel you must) finish, then block out the next available Saturday on your calendar and finish the entire thing in one sitting.


You love other books by the same author and can’t believe they would disappoint you so terribly.

Since I am, quite possibly, the only person who read The Casual Vacancy before reading the Harry Potter series, I can’t relate to this one. (But nobody is perfect. Take what you love and leave the rest.)


Being a writer is hard and you feel like you owe it to the author to finish their book.

I won’t tell them if you don’t.