What a slump I'm experiencing in my audio book selections. The last two completed works only garnered two out of five stars, in my opinion. Now, I've also wasted time and energy on books I could not continue. I attempted Joshua Ferris's The Unnamed. If only books came with smut alerts, I would not have invested my time in half of the 7 cds. It is really a shame, too, because the premise was thoroughly intriguing. Ferris tells the story of a man who loves his job as a high-powered lawyer, his marriage to a loving wife, and his role of father to a searching teen daughter. Yet, he battles spells of compulsive walking, never knowing when or in what elements the urge will take hold. During the episodes, he walks until he falls asleep and his wife must come fetch him. No doctor can diagnose a condition or proffer a cure. It has the potential to tear his happy family life apart. But, why, oh why, do authors feel the need to include gratuitous smut?? The filth didn't even advance the story in any way. It ruined the book for me, despite my interest in discovering the final outcome. Thankfully, when I looked it up on Amazon, I discovered that over a fourth of the reviews expressed dissatisfaction with the book, calling it depressing with little to no resolution. So maybe, I dodged a bullet after all.
Next, I picked up a non-fiction book. Certainly, I'd enjoy better success. No chance of smut on the horizon. Indeed, it was a book about the brain, one of my fascinations. Alas, The Genius Checklist by Dean Keith Simonton was not a good fit either. I liken it to the experience Charlie Brown has when listening to the teacher in school. The words began to sound more like wah-wah wah-wah, wah-wah wah-wah. I only listened to two out of 8 discs, but never felt reeled in sufficiently. The paradoxical tips promised for teaching a person how to develop creative genius sounded like a load of gobbledegook. Perhaps I would have fared better if I could have skimmed a physical copy of the book, instead of attempting to stay focused on words like psychopathology and orthogonal (had to look that one up - it means "at right angles"). I understood what the author was getting at. Indeed, while discussing the correlation between creativity and mental health, I worried for my poet friends because they apparently hold more propensity toward madness. Still, it just didn't light a fire strong enough to keep investing. Although Simonton "has studied creativity and genius for more than four decades," he failed to provide interesting enough stories to keep me riveted through boring data. I may attempt the hardback version.
Another book, snagged from the display shelves near the front desk, was by Danielle Steele and I thought Beauchamp Hall would certainly be a novel I could enjoy. It promised a story about a woman escaping to the English countryside where a manor house tale is filmed. Alas, once again, the author felt a need to include sexual content. I gave her one pass on the first involved description, thinking it might be a one-off. However, I gave up on the six-disc tale when a dirty video accompanied further activity. It is becoming harder and harder to find clean content in the books that are currently published. Very discouraging. When I took these woes to my husband, he suggested listening to music during my treadmill time. Alas, I'm most fully distracted from the exertion when I'm absorbed in a book. So, now I'm off to the library once again (this time with no kids in tow, so I can devote clear consideration) and hoping to have greater success with audio books than my last five attempts.
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