I just read a post at 50 Books: Books I have lied about reading.
It’s a fun post, but this comment was what made me laugh out loud:
Lying about reading or finishing a book seemed rampant among my grad school colleagues. When we’d get really drunk at bars, we’d play the lit-geek version of “I Never” which was “I Never Read.” Boy, I saw a lot of giddy relief when people admitted to faking it (so to speak).
There are a lot of classics (and “modern classics”) that I’ve never read, but I guess I’ve never felt compelled to lie about it. The only Dickens I’ve ever read is A Christmas Carol. I couldn’t get through 100 Years of Solitude. I finished Portrait of the Artist, shrugged, and don’t expect that I’ll ever tackle Ulysses. I haven’t read any Steinbeck (novels…I’m sure I read some of his shorter stuff)…I did see the film version of Of Mice and Men.
In the comments, it seems that most people lied about books they were supposed to read for a high school or college course and faked their way through the paper/essay they had to write. I may not have liked everything I was assigned, but I always finished them. (See: Remains of the Day) I just don’t think I’m a good enough liar to fake it that well. 😉
Cliffs Notes: The English Major’s friend.
I haven’t lied about reading any books — but I’ve read the first 100-200 pages of “Moby-Dick” at least two or three times and never gotten any further.
Thank you for making me feel virtuous about something. I believe I have lied about seeing a movie, but not about reading a book. If confronted by someone who has a read a book I haven’t, rather than lie, I turn the conversation to a book I have read and perhaps they haven’t. And now I know that “100 Years of Solitude” is a good choice to use, at least among witty and charming western New York bloggers of the lovely to look at persuasion. He says while smiling inwardly….