It Snuck Up On Me...Really

If you've been reading my blog for any length of time, you may have stumbled through my thoughts regarding the Twilight series. To say I was not impressed with the first book would be an understatement. I won't reiterate my feelings on the subject again (since I'm trying to stay in a good mood), but suffice it to say I was not happy with it.

I continued on however, mostly because I had made a promise to my son to read them all. He likes all the books, and even though I expressed my distaste for certain aspects of the first one, he demanded I keep reading. Being the honor-bound father that I am, I agreed.

Here I am having finished book three, and I am unfortunately forced to admit that I do like the story. I say unfortunately because I was dead set against becoming a fan. I just really hated the first book that much. Even now, you could not pay me enough to go back through that torture again. But I do recognize that the story has grown on me, and I have come to recognize redeeming aspects of book two and three. I can't honestly say that the writing is any better or worse. I just like the story more than I did before.

How did this happen? I still have a great distaste for the main character (someone I consider to be a perfect example of insanity), but part of me wonders if that isn't exactly what the author wanted? If that's so, then the author's goal of making me hate the MC has been accomplished. But how did I arrive at this position where I can comfortably acknowledge my appreciation of the story? I have no idea how I got here, but here I am.

This isn't the first time I've found myself enjoying a book I didn't want to. There have been quite a few times I've started out really not enjoying a book and yet unwilling to stop turning the page. Is this the mark of a good storyteller or am I just deluding myself? I honestly can't tell.

In any event, I will be continuing on through book four (once my son finishes it up) and I will very begrudgingly admit that at least some of the books in the series have merit. After all, I would hope my critical reading skills are still evolved enough to tell the difference between good and bad writing.

Have you ever had this happen to you, where you find yourself enjoying a book you didn't expect to like? How do you deal with that realization? Do you start reading with a tougher eye, searching for "concrete" reasons not to like it? Or do you just sit back and enjoy the book, admitting (at least in private) that it's a decent read?