As a kid, I slogged through whatever, even if it wasn't exactly age appropriate, because I was learning the ways of the world. I remember one novel called Callender Square that appalled me, and one called Hand in Glove that was rather dreary, and one particularly awful murder mystery where the author dumped every red herring they could think of into the stew and ended with the anticlimactic revelation that all the mayhem (whatever wasn't entirely unrelated to the mystery) was because of a highly collectible postage stamp...
As an adult, I reserve the right to speed read and skim over what I don't like in an author's work. I will skip the inappropriate scenes and the gory scenes, and sometimes I will simply go look at the last page to see how it ends without bothering with the rest.
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