Book lovers have all inevitably found themselves slogging through arid prose that stretches on endlessly. Sometimes the culprit is a popular novel whose obnoxious characters you’re desperate to run away from; at other moments, it’s a plot so ludicrous, you can’t suspend disbelief for another page. At some point, even the most dedicated readers may look up and realize that there’s no comprehension quiz holding them hostage and no grade being given for completion. For adults who have finished school, reading is no longer an obligation. But that means the decision of whether to finish a book you’re not enjoying is entirely yours—and, for some people, extremely fraught.
So how does a conscientious person decide when to give up and when to stick it out to the end? The debate is much older than the internet, but in online reading communities such as Goodreads, or on the literary sides of Instagram or TikTok, the acronym “DNF,” for “Did Not Finish,” abounds—as do arguments about when doing so is appropriate. There are those who strongly believe that no matter how badly you want to abandon a book, you should always finish it, and plenty of others adamant that life is too short to ever read something you’re not thoroughly thrilled with.
For those of us who don’t subscribe to a one-size-fits-all approach, articulating a personal, intentional philosophy about when to walk away might be the best we can do. I worked in publishing for a decade and strive to be purposeful in my reading practice while routinely finishing several dozen new books a year and putting down countless others. I spoke with similarly committed writers, teachers, editors, and bookworms about their philosophies in the hopes of creating a guide for others to decide where their limits are—and when they should quit a book.
Tune in to your underlying reaction.
Before dropping a book, you need to figure out what’s motivating you to stop reading it. Is the writing truly bad, or is the author experimenting in a creative way that might push you as a reader?
And if you hate something enough for it to elicit a huge emotional response, it might be worth sticking with it to better understand why. Mariel VanLandingham, a high-school English teacher in New Jersey, told me via email, “I love when a student comes into class railing about an assigned reading they hated: getting them to define why they feel so strongly and getting other students to react to them is a worthwhile experience for everyone. I would rather them power through something they hate and have big feelings about it than not read at all or be apathetic.”
Still, if the prose is lacking, the plot is dragging, and you feel like falling asleep every time you pick it up, it’s probably all right to move along.
Consider stretching yourself.
Reading has been linked to increased empathy and is one of the best opportunities we have to digest experiences and opinions we may not have otherwise considered.
“Perspectives, writing styles, and voices different from our own make our worlds bigger,” Emily Kinard, a reader in Washington, D.C., told me over X. “I’m going to give the very unpopular opinion that you should finish books you don’t enjoy. I can also name books whose entire thesis/point I wholeheartedly disagree with that I have loved.”
Books can bring up challenging feelings, and a thoughtful individual will be alert for when their own biases might stand in the way of engagement with what they’re reading. It’s one thing to put down a breezy rom-com that’s boring you to tears and another to quit Matthew Desmond’s Evicted because you’re “just not that into it.” Some of the most valuable experiences lead to edification, not necessarily enjoyment.
Recognize the limits of time.
For lots of busy people, reading time is a luxury. If you’re only able to scarf down 30 pages on Sunday afternoons or squeeze in one novel on vacation, of course you want to maximally enjoy the experience. There will be moments in life when you’re more mentally equipped to push through a book anticipating that the challenging literary experience will pay off, and others when you should search for something that will really draw you in.
“If—after 50 pages—I’m not enjoying [a] book, I move on,” said the writer and book blogger Lucy Pearson, who told me over email that completing every novel on the Big Read’s top-100 list––compiled from a 2003 BBC national survey to discover Britain’s most loved novel––made her realize that “life is far too short for bad books.”
Stop gamifying reading.
Bragging is not a 21st-century phenomenon, but social media has made it easier than ever to get attention for reading a lot, incentivizing some people to push through to the last page just for the sake of finishing. Leah Vann, a sports journalist in Texas, told me over email that she used to complete every book she started just for the satisfaction of adding it to her public Goodreads page, but that she has since abandoned the practice. “I realized: reading is not a sport, and there’s nothing to gain from reading a book I don’t enjoy,” she said. “There are too many books on my list to suffer through one!”
Tear through 200 books a year if it brings you joy, but remember that the validation of posting about a title online should not be the driving force behind your time spent reading.
Keep going if you want to be a hater.
I spoke with several people who read to the end specifically so they can critique a work with full authority. “If you want to read regularly, you should quit books you hate right away. Unless it’s massively trendy. Then you should absolutely finish the book for bitching fodder,” Maggie Q. Thompson, the news editor at The Austin Chronicle, told me. “The slump risk is a nonissue here. The hatred will fuel you.”
The fun of panning a trendy book aside, it is true that not finishing a story weakens your ability to properly assess it—especially in public or on social media, where quick takes based on first impressions abound. You may not reach a tepid thriller’s mind-bending last-page twist, for example, or you may end up unfairly dismissing a novel whose characters need 400 pages to be fully realized. It’s fine to abandon a title, but if you do, keep the strong opinions to a minimum.
Don’t let completism stop you from reading.
For a lot of people, the act of spending time with literature is more important than finishing any one book, and not wanting to return to what you’re currently working through is the surest way to guarantee that you’ll instead reach for your phone or the remote when given the choice.
“If I notice I haven’t been reading for a while, it means I’m not reaching for this particular book, and that’s the death knell,” Jay Venables, a writer and an audio producer, told me. “My goal is to keep reading, not read everything. I try my best to see the worth in the books I choose to read, but sometimes they’re not what I’m looking for at the given moment.”
Like others I spoke with, Venables recommends putting those books back into your to-read pile and returning to them later. A story that isn’t resonating with you today might change your life a few years from now.
Lean on the library.
If the prospect of abandoning the hardcover you spent $32 on at your local bookstore is especially torturous, march right over to your local library, where it costs $0 to check out a novel (or three). Five out of five librarians at the Boston Public Library who weighed in on this subject told me they regularly do not finish what they’re reading. “There are too many books on my ever-growing ‘To Read’ list for me to justify finishing one that hasn’t sold me after ~70 pages,” Anna Cappello, a senior library assistant, told me over email.
Using the library can not only make you feel less guilty about quitting a book; it can also help you push yourself to try new genres, authors, or formats. (And don’t worry: The author still gets paid.)
For some of us, abandoning a book will always tug at our conscience, but there’s nothing wrong with walking away. Personal awareness and the ability to keep an open mind in the future go a lot further toward making you a “good reader” than trudging through every book you’ve ever been inclined to cast aside.
