For a couple of weeks I was getting very frustrated with the books I was reading. It seemed like one after another I was throwing them down, unable to finish anything. I was disappointed with the author, the story, the characters, the tone, whatever and everything at once. When you desperately want to read something GOOD and can't find it, it can drive you crazy.
There is a strange ebb and flow to books. Sometimes my Amazon Cart is overflowing and sometimes desolate with crickets. I read all the blogs and nothing sounds appealing... nothing.
Then as if by magic I get the email that there are holds for me at the library. I get a lot of holds and not all of them are gems. I can tear through them too, but this week I have struck story gold.
Mr. Penumbra was amazing and now I'm onto Among Others and I am in heaven. The only problem is that once you find books like these they are gone and finished before you know it. They are warm and cozy and in reading them you find all the little nooks and crannies of your day into which to squeeze out a few minutes here and there.
Then you reluctantly and joyfully finish.
Then you're back in the bookstore and the library trying to find that next book, that next fix. Yes that is a drug reference because that is what it feels like.
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