I bet you've experienced it before, too;
You're searching the infinite vastness of the internet for interesting books, looking high- and low for hidden little gems; This one? Nah, this one? Nope, this? THIS!
The book gets ordered, and thus, the waiting begins...
Days go by (not really, we live in times of Amazon prime, after all, but it adds to the dramaturgy), and just as you've almost almost lost hope, the doorbell rings...
What happens next is based on true events experienced by the author of this post
"The doorbell rings and next thing I knew, the dogs went crazy; the dogs, in turn, made my neighbours go crazy, which made their neighbours go crazy.
The above rippled through the street, only to spring over to neighbouring streets, and next thing you know, the whole damn neighborhood was absolutely losing it's shit- me included.
While the above unfolded, the delivery guy started sweating more profusely by the minute. "Is this all my fault?" One could see him ask himself, "Are they going to lynch me for disturbing this quit, peaceful place?
At the height of the neighborhood's mania, the guy had created his own little "Niagara falls" on my stairs, I felt sorry for him.
Whatever his fate, I thought, this can't be for nothing! Next thing I know I get hold of the doorknob, breaking free of my fear-induced paralysis, and selflessly open the door- fully expecting to be pulled into the relentless currents of the delivery guy's waterfall.
Against all odds, however, I manage to snatch the package off of him, yelling an honest- but fast "Thank you, come again!" at him, only to yank the door shut and close all the blinds in hopes of escaping the neighborhood's condescending looks."
The author states that he hasn't seen the respective delivery guy ever since, fearing the worst...
After pausing for a millisecond to place the experienced trauma, you start to rip the package open and take out the book, my precious, you whisper to yourself, while staring a bit too long at the book's cover.
You can't help yourself but start reading the damn thing; At first, everything is fine, slowly but surely, however, you start feeling uneasy.
You keep on reading for a bit, only to lay the book aside with an unsatisfied feeling.
What's that, you wonder; Is it me? Is it the book?
The book seems just about right: it's written nicely, well structured and it even has some fancy colours and images that go along with the text...
It is me, then!
What am I doing wrong?! Am I simply not concentrated enough? Stressed from the day, maybe the night's sleep wasn't that good?
Yeah, gotta be something like that.
The next day comes along, and thus, new opportunities arise.
You open the book with newfound vigor and start reading it anew, only to end up at the same place you were at yesterday.
"That's it!", you scream, slowly getting into the fetus-position, ready to let those crocodile-tears roll along.
The mental breakdown passes and things start to brighten up again. You start brainstorming about ways to make the best of the situation, which ain't an easy task, for your ego won't let you point fingers at yourself, and the book ain't bad either- what's a workaround for that?
And thus, we arrived at the question of this post:
How to enjoy and make the best of a book that turns out to be different than expected?
PS: I let things get a bit out of hand in regards to the accompanying context. I know. 😶🌫️