It’s okay to not care

This week, for the third time ever, I didn’t finish reading a book. The previous two times were both Ulyssess (or however you spell it) by James Jocye. I’ve never gotten past page 50 of it, and while I always felt kind of bad sending it back to the library unfinished, I wasn’t that invested. But this week I tried to read The Book of Numbers by Joshua Cohen, and good grief, it was terrible. I don’t usually get Offended by books but this was just on another. The protagonist is a mysogenistic (or however you spell it) garbage human with horrible and disturbing taste in adult entertainment. And he’s racist. And yes, yes, the author is not the characters, but considering that one of the central gimmicks of this book is that the protagonist is named after the author, and is an author, that separation is kind of hard to achieve. And the way he talks about Arabs, augh, I’ve read “herioc white guy kills the evil muslim terrorists” novels that had less of stereotypes and casual racism. So…