Finishing a book is a strange moment. If it has been a good one, it can be quite sad – there have been many books that, when I have finished the last page, I have been disappointed that there isn’t any more to read. But then, after you’ve sat back and thought about it for a while, there then follows that unknown moment of… What will I read next?
If you have a stack of books waiting, there might be a bit of browsing and debate over which one will best follow the one you’ve just finished. But sometimes there can be a blank road ahead; no pile of books waiting for you to select the next one in line. So how do you decide where to go next? Maybe a trip to the library to pick one at random, or perhaps ask a few friends for a recommendation, or maybe look at the current bestsellers list and pick the one at the top? Or simply search out a genre that you wouldn’t normally read, to try and find something completely different.
When I go on holiday, I seem to absorb books, and I’ve hardly put one down before another one begins. And in these situations, without that pause in between to think about where to go next, totally distinct novels all begin to blend into one in the most wonderful way. As I said during my last holiday: “I love being on holiday, reading loads of books and getting them all mixed up in my head. Will the hundred year old man get eaten by a werewolf while searching for wizards in the tunnels of the London underground?”