On DNF’ing Books

I used to be a compulsive finisher. I would grind through the most tedious, inane bullshit just to mark “Read” on Goodreads and get my little dose of accomplishment dopamine. Something changed this year. I don’t know what, exactly, but I can’t do it anymore. I’m DNF’ing shit left and right. It started with The Iron Garden Sutra by A.D. Sui. On the surface, it sounded right up my alley: a death monk performs funeral rites aboard a plant-covered generation ship where something sinister stalks researchers one by one. But it quickly fell flat. I don’t want social commentary. I don’t care about token representation. I want skillful prose, good worldbuilding, and a real plot. It shouldn’t be a vehicle for IDPOL or the author’s transparent take on some other social issue. Can those things be part of a great story? Of course! But it seems like so many of today’s authors are just phoning it in. The wizard dabbled in forces deemed heresy by the empire... oh, and he LOVES dick. C’mon, man, just…

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