My favorite book ... if I liked it

Have you ever read a book that you knew you should adore, but didn't? I had that experience the other day. Everyone and their grandma's cousin's manicurist had been yapping for years about Ian McEwan's Saturday. Genius. Life-changing. Freaktalicious. The back of the book even said things like, "Mr. McEwan is the best writer on the earth. And, no, your favorite author is not even close."

So I picked it up. Within minutes, I understood the hype. The man is a genius. His work is subtle, yet life-changing. His poignant use of the English language was nothing short of freaktalicious. And, yet, I was bored.

The premise is great - the extraordinary events of a somewhat ordinary Saturday. So, like 24, but without Kiefer Sutherland and the overused "government mole" plot. But most of the book is reflections on his family, his past and the beginning of the Iraq war. A post-9/11 commentary, if you will. But I really didn't want to philosophize; I wanted a plot. I loved any chance to read dialog, but it happened so rarely that I found myself skimming pages at a time before dropping back in for a read.

Yet, I know it's a brilliant masterpiece.

Is that weird?

Please enlighten me. Although, I should warn you that I'm apparently too frivolous for enlightenment - so try to spice it up a bit.


p.s. Book recommendations are also a good idea if you're feeling comment shy.