This is silly, but closing in on the end of a good book, I work at prolonging and savoring the last few pages. Yes, that’s weird. But at the same time, maybe it makes sense.
When you enjoy something, it’s natural to savor it. Let’s say you love throwing the Frisbee. Do you go out and toss with a friend for five minutes and call it a day? No, it’s way more likely you set aside a good chunk of time and wing it back and forth for hours, shooting the breeze with each other, trying out new tricks, seeing if you can flip it behind your back.
If your fun thing is fishing, do you walk down to the lake or take the boat out, toss the line in twice, then head back home? Of course not. The whole point is to enjoy the solitude, feeling the tug on the line, reeling the finned creature ashore, pulling the hook out and savoring your capture. You want that experience to last.
So I guess it’s only natural to want extended reading time for a juicy novel. Whether it’s made you laugh, think or seize the side of your bed in terror, something inside makes you flip the pages faster and faster when you have a competing urge to turn them slower and make the joyful time last longer.
Recently, I reread Jonathan Tropper’s, “This is Where I Leave You.” I typically keep my books around to read a second, third or even fourth time (if they’re really good), or give them to other people for a shared experience. His book falls into the second category. It will go to my older brother, for its caustic wit, hilarious situations the family encounters, and his nuggets of wisdom about human behavior.
As the pages wound down upon this last reading, I stopped devouring 30-40 pages a night, and slowed it down to 15-20. I paced. The words had more impact. I put the book down and thought about the quality of writing, spent time chuckling to myself at the ways he had characters resolve problems, nodded my head out how realistically he portrayed the warts inherent in human behavior.
Those are the valuable nuggets to stow away as you decide to change pace – from savagely devouring to delicately nibbling. It is similar to eating food in that you taste more flavors when you chew slowly and pause between bites.
Slowing down also gets you thinking more, arguably a good thing for an author because s/he looks to connect with you. The more a writer connects, the better job s/he’s done, and the more likely you are to write a column about it (J).
On the personal fun side, having a great book waiting motivates you to get through the day and crawl under the covers at night, get comfortable with the pillows and enter another world, one that entertains, enlivens, scares you, makes you break into hearty chuckles. It also makes you want to share.
As you slow down and taste the words more precisely, you want to read them out loud to your spouse, one of your kids or a friend. That’s why I share books when one hits me just right – a gift of another world.
Though I’ve finished Tropper’s book (and plan to pick up more of his stuff), I’m deep into another author now. I think about the new book during the day, rue the speed with which I’m flying through the plot, knowing I’ll need to dial it back in another day or two.
When you enjoy something, it’s natural to savor it. Let’s say you love throwing the Frisbee. Do you go out and toss with a friend for five minutes and call it a day? No, it’s way more likely you set aside a good chunk of time and wing it back and forth for hours, shooting the breeze with each other, trying out new tricks, seeing if you can flip it behind your back.
If your fun thing is fishing, do you walk down to the lake or take the boat out, toss the line in twice, then head back home? Of course not. The whole point is to enjoy the solitude, feeling the tug on the line, reeling the finned creature ashore, pulling the hook out and savoring your capture. You want that experience to last.
So I guess it’s only natural to want extended reading time for a juicy novel. Whether it’s made you laugh, think or seize the side of your bed in terror, something inside makes you flip the pages faster and faster when you have a competing urge to turn them slower and make the joyful time last longer.
Recently, I reread Jonathan Tropper’s, “This is Where I Leave You.” I typically keep my books around to read a second, third or even fourth time (if they’re really good), or give them to other people for a shared experience. His book falls into the second category. It will go to my older brother, for its caustic wit, hilarious situations the family encounters, and his nuggets of wisdom about human behavior.
As the pages wound down upon this last reading, I stopped devouring 30-40 pages a night, and slowed it down to 15-20. I paced. The words had more impact. I put the book down and thought about the quality of writing, spent time chuckling to myself at the ways he had characters resolve problems, nodded my head out how realistically he portrayed the warts inherent in human behavior.
Those are the valuable nuggets to stow away as you decide to change pace – from savagely devouring to delicately nibbling. It is similar to eating food in that you taste more flavors when you chew slowly and pause between bites.
Slowing down also gets you thinking more, arguably a good thing for an author because s/he looks to connect with you. The more a writer connects, the better job s/he’s done, and the more likely you are to write a column about it (J).
On the personal fun side, having a great book waiting motivates you to get through the day and crawl under the covers at night, get comfortable with the pillows and enter another world, one that entertains, enlivens, scares you, makes you break into hearty chuckles. It also makes you want to share.
As you slow down and taste the words more precisely, you want to read them out loud to your spouse, one of your kids or a friend. That’s why I share books when one hits me just right – a gift of another world.
Though I’ve finished Tropper’s book (and plan to pick up more of his stuff), I’m deep into another author now. I think about the new book during the day, rue the speed with which I’m flying through the plot, knowing I’ll need to dial it back in another day or two.