You know the feeling when you get to the bottom of a tub of Ben and Jerry's Chubby Hubby after licking and loving every spoonful it took to get there, but still not sated? You would happily dive into another pint should one present itself. Especially if it had no calories.
Devouring a favorite treat only to be disappointed by its demise must be, I imagine, a relatively ordinary complaint.
In that same vein, I refer to the latest passel of books by my latest "discovery." (Well, she's hardly my discovery, but I just discovered her.) I read the first one of her books --I try to work chronologically-- last month and I have just begun the most recent. Now I'm torn between the desire to devour and the knowledge that there will be a long wait for the next taste. Why can't authors write as fast as I read? I've gone through this same issue before with Anne Perry, John Irving, MC Beaton, Joanne Harris, David McCullough, among others. Now I'm facing the end of Laurie R. King.
Unfortunately, I will always run out. Now I need to find a new "discovery."
2 comments:
The only John Irving novel I ever read was The Fourth Hand, and I didn't much like it.
Try Nicholas Christopher's "A Trip to the Stars." It's the book I push on everyone these days. (Despite the title, it's not SF--more in a "magic realism" vein.)
God: You pick one John Irving novel to read ... and it's "The Fourth Hand"? Indeed, you work in mysterious ways.
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