I fell down the rabbit hole this week.
No really, there was a little white rabbit. (He looked like my iPhone.)
His waist coat was brown instead of blue. (Because my iPhone wears a brown leather case.)
And instead of a pocket watch? He was connected to the bookstore via iTunes.
Seriously, I think I have a problem. Since last Monday, I have inhaled three novels on my iPhone. I don’t think it actually has anything to do with the method by which I am consuming the books. I think it has more to do with the fact that between watching awesome book clubs on Google+ hangouts like Vaginal Fantasy and reading the books they assign, I have lost the will to go out looking for other things to read.
Okay, that’s not really true. I read a lot. And since the last book club broadcast, I’ve actually finished three novels that had nothing to do with the hilarious and completely entertaining romantic novel book club I’ve written about here before. For the record, all three were books I had been meandering my way through for the last few months while simultaneously reading other things at the same time.
I have book ADD, okay? Leave me alone.
Since the last book club broadcast, when my cable and wifi were inconveniently not working and prevented me from watching in real time, I got sidetracked by last month’s novel. The general consensus of the book club was that it was not the best work we had read thus far, but I didn’t care. I was addicted. The author of these books was no Tolstoy by any stretch of the imagination (no one is these days), and the steamier sections of the book – which is the central point of the book club after all – were lacking in steam for the most part, but she had created a universe I was completely committed to following.
The characters were multidimensional – after that first book at least. The storyline of galactic intrigue and deception completely drew me in. And the writer went to great pains to layer the story lines, character arcs, and families together to create a world that I didn’t want to stop reading about.
I didn’t want to stop reading about it so much that I was walking through subway stations and up the stairs with my phone stretched out in front of me searching for signal so that I could download books faster. I missed my subway stop on Tuesday, and then got on the wrong subway on Thursday – all because I was reading.
I read through my lunch hours. I read on the subway. I sat in bed, with a perfectly good bookshelf filled with “real” books beside me, glued to my phone. I found excuses to read at restaurants, in bars, and walking down the street.
I neglected cooking dinner and thanked the delivery boy who brought me food absentmindedly. I “forgot” to do the laundry. I didn’t turn the television on at all for four days – not that this is a bad thing.
Since Monday I have consumed, by iPhone standards, more than 4,000 pages of story.
And I want more. I want the next chapter in this saga but something tells me it’s over for now, and I have to find a new obsession.
I’m hoping that a little Bradbury will pull me from the rabbit hole. Something’s got to, right?
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