putting it aside: the angel's game

Once or twice each year, I put a book aside that I simply do not want to continue reading. Ever. The odd thing is, it always seems to be a book that oodles of people love. Like The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, and now, The Angel's Game. I have been forcing my way through it all week and have only covered half of the 500+ pages. 

The writing is, well, purplish. And not in a Proustian way. In a cliche laden way that begs for a better editor. At first, encouraged by the author's ability to wonderfully conjure a sense of place in old world Barcelona, I entertained the idea that the prose was deliberately delivered in this manner as a reflection of the narrator's job writing sensational lit for a second tier daily. But no. And then I thought all the focus upon books and writings would enthrall me and carry me along. But no. And now, as the Faustian story line reaches an "Oh please!" moment for me, I am putting it back on the shelf. 

Go ahead. Tell me you loved it. I am waiting for it. It always happens. Or better yet, tell me the book that you thought you would like because everyone else did and then you didn't.