Hi, Hey, Hello!
So a couple of weeks ago I talked about Reading Slumps and then (somewhat predictably) I fell straight into one. Hard. Which brings me on to this post, because it was one of the few occasions where I could attribute my lack of desire to pick a book up and read to an exact moment in time.
It was the moment when I shut The Girl on the Train (yeah I am talking about this again without actually producing on this review, it has been written I swear to you, it’s coming soon) on the train home and wished that I could start it all over again and go back to knowing nothing about it. I didn’t want to leave it. I’m not gonna say ever because that would be ridiculous, but I definitely wasn’t ready to leave it in the same way that I was the other books that I have read recently.
I hardcore fell into a Book Hangover.
You know that feeling where even though you have opened up a new book but your thoughts are still very much with the old one? And you try and try to get into this new one that holds so much promise and are even kind of excited to read but you just can’t.
Nothing seems to work. You read the same sentence about 15 times before you even realise that you’re doing so. And despite reading it that many times you still don’t know what the hell the sentence even said or why it is relevant.
And your brain is still thinking about that one thing that almost kept you up at night when you reading your last book even though it is kind of no longer relevant. Like, you’re trying to put that story to bed and the universe seems to be telling you that you can’t. The universe seems to want you to second guess some of the things that you thought you knew about the book and taunt you into reading it all over again. And read nothing ever again. Just that one book. Until you can recite it in your sleep backwards.
Which sounds super fun and would definitely solve the problem of not being able to read. Because reading is something that is still within you but apparently only if you read that one book. Which is impractical. Insanely impractical. Especially when there is a whole list of books that I wanna read. So many books.
And yet I still really wanna read The Girl on the Train again and let’s not even get me started on The Night Circus I have hidden that book from myself to avoid reading it again, but I accidentally caught it the sight of the spine when I was walking around Waterstones the other day (no I shouldn’t have been in there, but I couldn’t help it, it was calling to me) and it was thrust firmly back onto my radar. Still love it.
And hopefully I will get to the stage where I could carry on with my reading life and not feel some odd sense of guilt that I am leaving TGOTT behind me and moving (or at least trying to) onto 17th century Amsterdam (which is actually a lie because of today I switched the book I planned on reading to something less historical. So I’m actually now in an The Art of Being Normal mode).
Is this just a me thing? Does anyone else experience this? And what books have people experienced this with? I’m curious, plus you know I really need to add more books onto my TBR list…
Parentheses count: 4. See you tomorrow!
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