On hype

Sometimes a book arrives steeped in publisher's praise as did Legend of a Suicide by David Vann and my thoughts on that next week, but I look at it and think, do I really want to read that?
Then the publisher might write to you again and ask if you've read it yet, and if not please, please do because it's really good.
Then you might hear again with news of a launch and little snippets of stunning reviews.
This is presumably the thankless world of the publishing PR person and you wonder if anyone does ever thank them?
Well I try to, though it's a bit of an uphill task keeping on top of the emails, often well into three figures daily, but I do try and so if any of you are reading this, thank you again, you do a great job of keeping me informed about what's out there and testing the boundaries of my comfort zone.
I have a shelving system that keeps them in month order of publication so that I can see at a glance what's current and thus occasionally try to offer some contemporaneous comment, though that can never be guaranteed if my reading mood is elsewhere. A book often has to bide its time and sometimes I like to let all the glitter and hype subside.
Hype, and hands up guilty as charged because I can readily jump on that bright sparkly roller coaster too, can be unpredictable because it can go either way, in fact it can seriously backfire here.
I'm thinking back to Irene Nemirovsky's Suite Francaise, a reading experience from which I learned so much about not rushing to early judgements. Perhaps the hype unwittingly sets me off on the wrong foot and I sub-consciously end up determined to find fault.
I'm picky about that brand new suitcase on the dust jacket and I have distracted myself from the writing.
I can't get a grip on the book at all, my thoughts are disparate, unfocused and scattered because I'm a bit cross.
Then perhaps I've read something about the author that determines me not to like them, so I'm busy blaming the book, the writer, the paper, the font, what they've written about, the characters... anything in fact that will become a Room 101 repository for my dissatisfaction and lead to that damning indictment and the dismissal of the flawed book...but of course none of it's my fault.
Thankfully I've managed to turn my narrow thinking around to something much more open-minded. The book goes back on the shelf until I can approach it in a much gentler, more conciliatory mood, it will get another chance because I now tend to perceive that as a fault of the inner me, not the book, and I am quietly amazed at how often, given that chance, a book may then succeed where once it seemed to fail.
How fatally misguided I would have been to listen to those early misgivings about all things Irene Nemirovsky and discard her writing, and thank goodness you all took me to task in comments and told me to return to the book.
Equally how  oddly liberating it is to be able to come here, eat some humble pie and admit that I got something wrong and I'm wondering if any of you have had reading turnarounds like this?
But one thing I'm now very careful not to do is to turn the final page of a book, rush to the laptop, type out my thoughts and post on here immediately.
There's a pondering process involved and it may span several weeks because isn't that the hidden and recurring value of a book? A sort of literary compound interest, a mathematical calculation which apparently no one comprehends anymore, but needs to if they are to understand credit card repayments.
How many hours did I labour over compound interest in maths lessons?
A book sinks down into my sub-conscious and needs time in there to ripen and mature, something will quite suddenly bubble to the surface out of nowhere to increase my understanding, often days if not weeks later giving me a completely new perspective on my reading. David Vann's book has been a fine example of that, a book which has delved right down and repaid a great deal.
The joy of this space for me is that I have no deadlines...except for Ulysses that is, and perhaps for some books a deadline is essential...can you tell I'm behind with it as of today?
I have been answering lots of questions about dovegreyreader scribbles of late and as always trying to explain that it is for pleasure not pain, but that's been good because it's all made me revisit those founding principles and also look at how things have developed and moved on since that day in March 2006 when I was setting this up and I had to think of a strap line. I dashed that bookaholic, sock-knitting quilter who was a community nurse in her spare time off the top of my head thinking I'd keep this up for about three weeks not three years. In fact if ever I try and tweak it to something slightly more refined one of you notices and swiftly and rightly reminds me of my proper place in the world and my thanks as always to Ruth for that picture of the dove bearing those books.