A fine-looking copy of ‘Ulysses’, resplendent in green jacket like a proud Masters winner, stares at me from my bookshelves. I’ve moved it around because it catches my attention and reminds me of my failure to finish it. Oh, I’ve tried. Many times. One page a day; big chunks at a time; sections in a different order. I just can’t do it. As an experienced reader, it’s something that has troubled me for years. And, while I can’t bring myself to part with it – it as a gift, bought for me at the James Joyce Centre in Dublin – I’ve finally put up the white flag. I will never finish ‘Ulysses’ in this lifetime.
Not finishing books is an unforgivable sin in the English classroom, is it not? Those reluctant readers will change their books every week, every day, if they could get away with it. The novelty of a new book, chosen without thought or advice, trumps finishing the previous one. Experience in spotting the tricks of ‘reading avoidance’ allows us to recognise and intervene but raises the thorny problem of my ‘Ulysses’ hypocrisy. If I’m allowed to dismiss books unfinished then why shouldn’t my pupils? The answer may lie in a discussion of what it’s like to be a reader. Of course you can change books if you’re a reader. Knowing when and why to give up is another matter.
Life’s too short to waste time on books you don’t enjoy. Notice that I refrained from using ‘bad books’ because I don’t think that matters. I walk into my local bookshop and it often sinks in that, despite reading constantly for forty years, in the larger scheme of things, I’ve read nothing. None of us will ever read everything we want or read everything we think we need to read. So let’s not get hung up or feel guilty if we dump a few books along the way. And I think it should be okay for our children to do so too.
When I take a class to the library it is incumbent on me to be by a child’s side when they are choosing a book; to stop them choosing a seven hundred page doorstopper if they are a reluctant reader; to know them well enough to suggest a book which they may enjoy; to have read enough teen fiction to be able to make that choice. It is not about insisting that they finish the books I choose for them but providing them with the skills to make that choice for themselves. Children with no reading history have no hook to hang their reading on. My job is to provide the conditions for them to start that history.
In his essay, ‘Why Finish Books?’ Tim Parks argues that it’s fine to finish books before the end because the writing is the most important factor. ‘Once the structure has been set up and the narrative ball is rolling, the need for an end is just an unfortunate burden, an embarrassment, a deplorable closure of so much possibility.’ I wouldn’t argue with him about the ‘Reservoir Dogs’-style end to Hamlet and, dare I agree with him , that the play might have been better without it. But it makes me feel better about not finishing ‘Ulysses’. I recognise the beauty of the prose. It’s just I’ve got other things to read. Allowing our pupils to ‘not finish’ books is okay too. As long as they know why.