I mentioned in the item about the Kindle a few days ago that I twice had failed to finish the book Dune. Which astonished one of our readers, because he loves Dune, as does his son.

But I haven’t finished all sorts of book. In fact, the books I began but didn’t finish … might make a very nice reading list for some college class somewhere.

It also might make for a fun list. In no real order, aside from the last being No. 1 in “you sure you want to admit to that?” on the list.

So here we go:

10. Dune, by Frank Herbert. Yes, a classic, yada-yada-yada. I like it fine early, even though Duke Leto loses Arrakis to the that evil family, but after about 300 pages it turns into Herbert recapping his LSD trips and calling it art. Too much spice, not enough action. And the giants worms you can ride? Yeah, sure.

9. Catch-22, by Joseph Heller. Let’s see, if you say it’s madness to want to fly a mission over Germany, that proves you are sane, so you have to go. And if you have no problem flying a mission, you’re probably insane, but nobody is going to stop you from flying. See? I can still recapitulate that. But the book just disappears into the Mediterranean about 400 pages in. I just did not care.

8. I Have No Mouth, And I Must Scream, by Harlan Ellison. I bought the book when I was about 13, mostly because I thought the title was cool. The book? Less so. An allegory for hell, apparently. When I was 13, I didn’t do allegory. I’m not sure I do now.

7. Lord Jim, by Joseph Conrad. Read Heart of Darkness by the same author and liked it just fine. “The horror.” Got about 15 pages into Lord Jim and was bored silly. Something about it made me think it wouldn’t get any better, either.

6.  Canterbury Tales, Geoffrey Chaucer. One of those books you believe you ought to read when you’re thinking about being a serious historian (the literary equivalent of eating your broccoli), and then you get into it and realize that the English language has changed a bit in the past 600 years.

5. The Trial, Franz Kafka. A lot of us toss around the word “Kafkaesque,” so maybe we should read the book that generated the expression? I bought it, and gave it a shot. “If you’re not guilty, then why were you arrested?” OK. Clever concept.  But the rest of it? Wake me when the trial is over.

4. The Good Soldier Svejk, by Jaroslav Hasek. An author I love, military historian John Keegan, touted this book as one of the few to come out of the World War I Eastern Front. The concept is interesting, a slacker Czech in the Austro-Hungarian Empire army, but the pace is turgid, and reading about a screwoff for hundreds of pages … no thanks. Sgt. Bilko is more interesting. And it seems only fitting I never finished it — because apparently the author didn’t, either, dying of tuberculosis before he was done. Hmm. I was dying of boredom.

3.  Foucault’s Pendulum, Umberto Eco. I liked Name of the Rose quite a bit. Read it twice. Saw the movie, with Sean Connery. So I bought the Italian author’s next book … in 1988, and I still remember a reviewer suggesting it was “the most unread book sold in 1988.” I was one of those who owned but didn’t read. May not have finished 10 pages. Eco studies semiotics. Which is academic-ese for “putting people to sleep with prose.”

2.  Farmer Giles of Ham, by J.R.R. Tolkein. I have done Lord of the Rings about 20 times. No, really. And I got through most of Tolkein’s other stuff, too. But I couldn’t hack Farmer G. Opened it, scanned a page, put it back on the shelf.

1. War and Peace, by Leo Tolstoy. Yes, yes, yes. I know. “Perhaps the greatest novel ever written.” Perhaps I could finish it if I were serving a life sentence and it was the only book I had in my cell. Count Ivan and Duchess Ivanova and a cast of zillions, and maybe if I had kept notes on everyone,  to keep them straight. Funny thing here? I took a class in college that was only about this book. And even then, I didn’t finish it. Did Napoleon ever leave Moscow?