I pretend that I don't give up so that I can give up.
If a book I'm in the middle of is not engaging, or is making me depressed, or the writing is bad, or whatever... I'll just put in a bookmark and set it aside "to finish later" and move on to another book from the TBR piles and tell myself, "I'll come back to that one later".
And five years later when I haven't picked it up again, I'll look at it and say, "I don't really remember anything about this book besides that it wasn't very good, so maybe I should just donate it" and it goes into the "trade in" shelf.
But I can still tell myself I don't give up on books!
Really! I just... temporarily switched priorities.... yeah.... that's it....
Psychological tricks we play on ourselves can be super handy, ha ha ha ha.
Maybe after another decade or so I can be totally honest and save my bookmarks and just put the book directly into the donations/trade-in pile, but not yet.
Meanwhile, I finished "A Six Letter Word For Death", by Patricia Moyes. I forgot how much I enjoy mysteries, even if this one was dated enough to feel like I was reading historical fiction.
It wasn't even really set *that* long ago, but.... society has changed so much so fast that it felt very vintage.
(IE, one character had his driver's license taken away for repeated speeding, so his backup default method of transportation? Go by horseback. Not cycling, horseback. And to keep in touch a search party takes along a portable radio. Because cell phones were a few decades away from being invented)