Am I F@#&ing DONE yet?

I've reached that point that happens, often, in Russian literature. That point of desperation. That point of I-WANT-TO-THROW-YOU-AGAINST-THE-WALL-I-HATE-YOU-SO-MUCH. That point of no return because at this point, you've read 250 pages of very extended prose, so you might as well read 250 pages more. Do you see my bookmark there? It's not even HALF way through. According to Goodreads, I am only 38% finished. I've been reading this book for weeks, which is very abnormal for me. I can usually burn through a book in a week, but this one has been dragging me through the mud behind a truck. It was even in my first post which was a month ago, I've been reading it that long.

My love letter still stands. I'm proud of myself for making it this far, and I still feel pretty smart for being able to follow patronymics and the histories of each person that seems to step foot into the Cancer Ward. But, to be honest, I miss reading things that are not this book.

I know there's a pay off at some point. I'm getting excited for the end. Perhaps with my Christmas break that will be here starting Thursday, it will be time to go on reading binges and finish this book.

Am I crazy for continuing to push on through? I feel like once I'm this far in a book I CANNOT give up. Have you ever given up on a book?