Wish I were a better reader

So, I was supposed to be reading a manuscript this weekend that a colleague at work asked me to look at, which I've had on my desk for ages. (Since October, I think. I know, I'm awful.) The problem is, I knew right from the covering note that it wasn't going to be something I was interested in. I mean, what I do is about snap decisions, and while sometimes, sometimes, I will change my mind about a manuscript, most of the time I have to trust in my instincts and my first reaction to something. I don't have time to read every bit of everything I'm asked to look at, so I learn to trust in my own interests.

When I'm reading a novel, and I find my eye skipping down the page, looking for something more interesting to focus on, then I know it isn't for me. When the words are arranged artfully, but twenty pages in I still don't care a whit for any of the characters, I know it isn't for me. When you've hooked me with an interesting idea, then throw such a stupid curveball at me that I want to pitch the pages across the room, I know it isn't for me.

I've read some great stuff. Really great stuff, and if I hold submissions to the same standards of other fabulous books I've read, I figure that's my right as a reader. Unfortunately, in this case, it means I have to go and tell my colleague, who worked with the author on revisions, that while I can see the technical interest in the book, it didn't connect with me emotionally. Sometimes, I use phrases like that euphemistically, but as I writer myself, I know I'd rather that than "I hated it." Because it is a matter of personal opinion, and for every book I've thought was amazing, there's another one that may be an award winner, but leaves me cold. And that's why we have different specialities and interests as agents.

I might have been going somewhere else with this when I started it, but if so, I've lost track of it. Need to run out and get lunch, then I think I'll settle in with a DVD. Maybe get a little crafty.