Books I’ll Never Finish (and Why That’s Okay)

• Writer Name: Rafi Ullah

Bcause sometimes, closing the cover early is the best ending.

I used to believe that once you start a book, you have a sacred duty to finish it.

It was the unspoken law of the reader’s code. My grandmother, a librarian, drilled it into me: “Every book has a soul, and every soul deserves to be heard in full.” Noble advice. The kind that sounds great on a bookmark with floral borders.

But somewhere between my early twenties and the growing mountain of half-read novels on my nightstand, I broke that sacred oath. Now, I proudly carry a stack of “DNFs” Did Not Finish and I don’t feel guilty about it.

I used to think real readers didn’t quit. They endured slow chapters, dull characters, and endless backstory like literary warriors. But in reality, my life doesn’t come with a bottomless supply of free time. There’s work, laundry, social obligations, and if I’m honest the occasional four-hour Netflix binge. If a book takes me two weeks to slog through fifty pages, maybe the problem isn’t me.

Some books are like blind dates your friend swears you’ll love — “They’re so your type!” until halfway through dinner you realize, actually, they’re not. And no amount of polite nodding will make you want dessert.

The Hall of Abandoned Stories:

I have my own literary graveyard a shelf for books I’ve abandoned but can’t quite give away. There’s that prize-winning novel with sentences so long they feel like obstacle courses. That historical epic that reads like someone copied the Wikipedia page and sprinkled in some dialogue. And the self-help book that started inspiring but halfway through turned into a repetitive sermon on things I’d already heard a dozen times.

I keep them for two reasons:

1. Hope maybe one day I’ll be in the right mood, and the magic will click.

2. Reminder at reading is supposed to be joy, not a chore.



The Guilt Factor:

At first, I felt like I was betraying the author. They worked for years on this masterpiece, and here I was, giving up on chapter five. But then I realized: authors write for readers who want to read their story. If I’m not connecting, forcing myself to finish doesn’t honor the book it just makes me resent it.

Besides, no one finishes every conversation, every meal, or every TV series they start. Why should books be different?

Why Quitting Can Be an Act of Love

Here’s the thing: when I put down a book that’s not clicking, I’m making room for the ones that will. I’m giving myself the gift of enthusiasm the thrill of a story I can’t wait to get back to, instead of one I drag myself through.

Some books simply aren’t meant for us right now. Maybe our tastes will change. Maybe they won’t. But isn’t it better to let a story go than to resent it for wasting our time?

A Liberating Reading Rule:

I’ve adopted what I call the Rule of Fifty: if a book hasn’t hooked me by page fifty, I close it without guilt. It’s amazing how freeing this is. Suddenly, my reading life feels lighter, more joyful, and ionically more productive.

Now, instead of slogging through something I’m “supposed” to read, I’m devouring books I want to read. The world is full of amazing stories, and my TBR pile (to-be-read) doesn’t need dead weight.

The Happy Ending:

These days, I think of my unfinished books not as failures, but as conversations that naturally ended. Some were brief encounters, some lasted a few chapters, and a few left me with at least one beautiful line or thought.

And that’s the thing even books I don’t finish give me something. They teach me what I love, what I don’t, and that sometimes, walking away is not just okay it’s essential.

Because the truth is, the best books are the ones you can’t put down. And the rest? Well, they make great coasters.