You're on page 87. You don't like the book. You've known it since page 30, but you keep going — out of politeness toward the author, guilt about the money you spent, or principle because "you finish what you start."
And while you're forcing yourself through this novel that doesn't speak to you, three books from your TBR pile are calling to you from the nightstand. You read slower and slower. Some evenings, you choose your phone over the book. And one morning, you realize you haven't read in a week.
That's how a single book you're stubbornly trying to finish can trigger a reading slump that lasts months.
Where does this guilt come from?
The pressure to finish a book comes from three sources, and none of them are rational.
School. For years, we were taught that not finishing a book was a sign of laziness or lack of discipline. Assigned readings had to be completed — even if they bored us to death. This conditioning survives long after graduation.
Money. You paid for this book. Not finishing it feels like "wasting money." But this is what economists call the sunk cost fallacy: the money is spent whether you finish the book or not. The time you spend reading without pleasure, however, is a real cost — time you could spend on a book you actually love.
Social pressure. On social media, in book clubs, some people display their "finished books" like trophies. Abandoning a book feels like admitting weakness in a culture that values quantity. But reading isn't a competition — it's a pleasure. And nobody ever won an award for finishing a bad book.
What Daniel Pennac says (and why he's right)
In Comme un roman (The Rights of the Reader), Daniel Pennac outlined ten rights of the reader. The third is the most liberating: the right not to finish. Alongside the right to skip pages, the right to reread, and the right to read anything.
The message is simple: reading is a free act. Nobody forces you to finish a movie that bores you at the cinema — you leave, or you change the channel. Why should a book be any different?
The paradox is that giving yourself permission to abandon actually makes you read more. When you know you can put a book down at any moment, you start more books more easily, you take more risks in your choices, and you discover more favorites. The freedom to abandon is the best fuel for curiosity.
The 50-page rule
If abandoning after 3 pages might be premature, slogging through to the end is a waste of time. You need a reasonable threshold.
The most common rule: give a book 50 pages. That's enough to judge the style, the pace, and your attachment to the characters. If after 50 pages you don't want to know what happens next, that's a clear signal.
American author Nancy Pearl proposes an elegant variation: subtract your age from 100. The result is the number of pages you give a book. The idea: the older you get, the less time you have to waste on books that don't move you.
Whatever rule you adopt, the key is to decide it in advance. When the threshold is set, abandoning is no longer an impulsive failure — it's a methodical decision.
Abandoning as a self-knowledge tool
Here's an idea nobody has ever presented to you: an abandoned book is precious information about your reading tastes.
If you abandon three thrillers in a row, maybe the genre doesn't suit you right now. If you systematically drop books with slow narration, you know that pacing is an important criterion for you. If you abandon a classic praised by everyone, you learn that social pressure isn't a good reading guide.
That's why in Bukku, abandoned books don't disappear from your library. You can mark them as "abandoned" and note which page you stopped at. Over time, this record paints a portrait of your tastes in negative: what you don't like is just as revealing as what you love. If you're looking to better choose your next book, your abandoned books are a goldmine.
When to push through anyway
Let's be honest: there are cases where persevering is worth it.
The book that starts slowly but explodes later. Some works need 100 pages to build their world. The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco, The Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett, or The Lord of the Rings are books that reward patience. If several people you trust tell you "stick with it, it's worth it," that's a signal worth considering.
The book that challenges you intellectually. A dense essay or demanding novel can be difficult without being bad. If you feel the difficulty comes from the text and not from your disinterest, it might be a book to read more slowly, in small doses, rather than abandon.
The book club book. If your book club chose this book and you're going to discuss it, finishing has social value. And sometimes, books you didn't like generate the most interesting discussions.
Outside of these cases, abandoning is always a valid option.
How to abandon without guilt: a protocol
If despite everything, the gesture remains difficult for you, here's a three-step protocol.
First, set the book aside for a week. Put it away and read something else. If after a week you have no desire to pick it back up, it's a natural abandonment — not a brutal decision.
Second, note why. One sentence is enough: "style too heavy," "uninteresting characters," "predictable plot." This note will serve your future choices and enriches your reader profile.
Third, start the next one immediately. Open a book that excites you — something from your TBR in the "comfort" or "express" category. The best remedy for an abandonment is the immediate pleasure of the next book.
The real enemy isn't abandoning
The real enemy of the reader isn't putting a book down. It's not opening any book at all. Every month spent slogging through a novel you don't like is a month where you didn't read the three books that could have been favorites.
Abandon quickly, abandon well, and read the next one. It's the most underrated right of the reader — and perhaps the most important.
In Bukku, every book counts — even the ones you didn't finish. Mark your abandonments, note the reason, and turn every "no" into a better "yes" for what comes next.