The DNF's that haunt me
For entirely unexpected reasons
For something a little different, today I thought I’d review the different books that I never finished, or ‘DNF’ed.’1 While I still remember the plots, I never finished them and never will.
Interestingly, most of these books come from my childhood. I also could not have told you the names of these books before today. It was in service of this post that I hunted them down. I don’t really have any interest in reading them still, so then why do I remember them??? Truly, life is a mystery.
1. The book that somehow involves the devil
The Wish Giver: Three Tales of Coven Tree by Bill Brittain
This took about 3 Google searches to find. I would have never guessed the name of this book; it has been thoroughly scrubbed from my memory. Anyways, the gist is that there is a fair in town, and this weird dude - who may or may not be the devil - gives three children and one random adult man wishes. The wishes come in the form of a red dot on a piece of paper, which the recipient is supposed to press when they make their wish.
The man hides his behind his cash register, and the first child to use hers ends up croaking like a frog. I tried reading this book twice as a kid,2 but ultimately nothing about it interested me. Why do I still remember it then, when I could make space in my brain for so many other interesting things? Who knows.
2. The book that was too long so I gave up
I lied, I do remember the title of this one. It’s Dicey’s Song, by Cynthia Voigt. I remember this as being somewhere around 300 pages, though Google tells me it’s barely 200.
I started reading Dicey’s Song when I was in 3rd grade. Why was a 3rd grader reading a decidedly young adult novel about abandoned children? So glad you asked.
I have always been a voracious reader. My parents, eye doctors that they are, worried that I’d make my eyes worse by reading so much. Stop reading and go watch TV, was a common refrain in my childhood.3 Anyways, by the time I was in primary school, my reading ability far outmatched any of my classmates, to the point where I apparently was getting bored in class. I don’t remember that; I just remember I was suddenly being pulled out of class to go talk with another lady about books. We’d decide on books to read, and then I would come back to talk about them.
There are a number of things that strike me as odd about this 20 years on. Why couldn’t I have just stayed in class? Why wasn’t I just given, I don’t know, harder books? What was the end goal of pulling me out of class? I don’t remember feeling ostracized, but if anything, I could see how that might make me feel more different and try harder to fit in.4
Anyways, I was with Mrs. Rasmussen, as I believe her name was, and we would talk about what I was reading. I suggested reading Dicey’s Song because I had already read the precursor book multiple times.5 Mrs. Rasmussen suggested that this was a little long for me, but I insisted because I’m an overachiever.
It was indeed too long for me. I vividly remember the moment when I gave up on this book. Nothing was happening! I was sitting in my childhood bed, frustrated that it was taking forever.
I lied to Mrs. Rasmussen the next time saw her that I had finished the book, but my lie was not convincing. Soon after, I stopped being pulled out of class to go talk about books.
3. The epic fantasy book that had a suspiciously quick return time to the library
My friends, this was a labor of love. I once again had zero memory of what this book was called, and the main identifying features it had were that it was thick, that I was stuck on a couch while impatiently waiting for my leg to heal, and that it had a suspiciously quick turnaround at my local library - 2 days, to be precise.
I was laid up with what would eventually turn out to be a stress fracture in my femur.6 I wasn’t supposed to put any weight on it, which is pretty hard when you need to walk to do much of anything. So I was stuck on our couch, with re-runs of Bonanza in the background, and this book.
The prologue left an indelible image in my mind - the villain, who has recently been defeated, is taunting one of the victors. The villain is stuck behind a magical wall, but shrewdly notes that he can outlast the magic in this wall, and that the alliance that was formed to take him down is splintering as they speak. What was most profound about this was the victor agreed - he knew that this was a temporary solution, and that the villain would once again rise to plague humanity. Or the elves. Or whoever these people were. Interesting concept, but I didn’t have time to get much further than that before I needed to return the book.
If I still had a library card at my hometown library, maybe I could figure out what this book was. But alas, I do not. And Fantasy, especially YA Fantasy, has boomed over the past 2 decades7 so I had my work cut out for me. The book was blue and green, and maybe had a wall on it? And no, it was not Game of Thrones, another book with a prominent wall feature.
I remembered no character names, no places, just that there was 1) a villain, 2) victors, 3) a wall, 4) an alliance already dissolving, and 5) a time jump. I made a valiant effort, but after 90 minutes of Googling, had to throw in the towel. Sadly what little I remembered wasn’t enough to help me find the name of this book, which shall rest unknown for time immemorial.8
Since I can’t leave you on such a sad note, here is one more DNF.
Bonus
1. Madame Bovary par Gustave Flaubert
I hate this book. I cannot tell you how much I HATE THIS BOOK. It’s the only book in my adult memory that I’ve DNF’ed.
For context, I speak French. To maintain my level of fluency, I read at least a book in French each month. When I was in college, there was a lovely little foreign language bookstore in Harvard Square.9 In addition to my textbooks, I bought a few extra books to read, including this well known French classic.
It was awful. I made it about 200 pages in and gave up. Maybe it’s because I grew up in a provincial small town bordering farm land that I felt so utterly bored and disgusted by the characters’ behavior. Why wasn’t anyone trying? Why wasn’t anyone having a f*****g conversation with anyone else?!?! So much of the plot would have been resolved! Where was the ambition? The drive? The desire to be ANYWHERE BUT THIS SMALL TOWN???!!!
I am probably projecting here, but I got so mad at this book that I had to stop reading for the sake of my blood pressure. I still own it, because…reasons.10
Why keep reading a book you don’t like, you may ask. Well, I am stubborn and usually see something through to the end once I start. Unless it’s Madame Bovary. This book put me off reading Flaubert for good. He may be a good writer, but I do not care. Ta gueule, Flaubert.
Did Not Finish, in book world terms.
I remember that much, at least.
Joke’s on them cause I barely watch TV now.
There’s a whole separate story about how my 3rd grade teacher, a really tall man by the name of Mr. Oliver, called my parents’ house one day to tell them that I was being too social in class. That is a whole other kettle of fish, and once again, seems inappropriate to me now.
The book about said child abandonment.
Fun fact: your femur is the strongest bone in your body, with the consistency of cement. So the fact that I BROKE THE STRONGEST BONE IN MY BODY by running has always tickled me. Foreshadowing for the eventual joint disease I’d be diagnosed with in my 30s.
I was just about 13 when this all went down, so 2004 thereabouts.
If you know what it is, feel free to chime in!
RIP Schoenhof’s.
Those reasons being it goes well with the rest of my French books. Most French books are published with white spines, so they all match.
Mystery YA novel might’ve been Maze Runner? I don’t know the entire plot because I haven’t read it; I’ve only listened to YouTube commentators rant about how bad the movie adaptation was, and your description might match.