Due to a combination of luck, limited new book selection, and having trusted sources for new book recommendations, it has been a long time since I read a book and was left with the impression that it was, as a whole, a swing and a miss. I mean, I wasn’t a huge fan of Harrow The Ninth, but I still enjoyed the book enough that I wouldn’t even call it a foul ball. It just wasn’t the home run I was expecting after reading the first book in the series. Pretty much everything else I’ve read over the last few years was a good choice, even if it gave me complex feelings, and I’m struggling to remember the last time I just did not like a book I’d picked up to read other than the notable exception of when I tried to force myself to read the Game of Thrones Series and literally threw one of the books away from me when I got to the Red Wedding bit because I was sick and tired of the constant “every decent person gets killed because ninety-nine percent of the world’s population are total bastards who will kill you given a chance and even the most pitiful motive.” I’m not a picky reader, by any means, nor do I restrict myself to only what I know I like, but I tend to wait for something to be recommended or look for certain signs in reviews before choosing to invest my time and that means I rarely spend my time on a book that I genuinely dislike.