I try to be in the middle of consuming at least one work of fiction at a time. When I get about 90% through this, I start perusing Amazon or in extreme cases la biblioteca for the next in line. I try to have something in my possession to move onto when I'm done, so as to mitigate or (preferably) preclude a no-book-to-read situation. When that happens, like now, I get a feeling of limbo only vaguely touched on by that sensation of medicine-head when you've mixed your antihistimine with your sleeping pills with your cough syrup with more of your antihistimine. Time and space become variable things.
Add to that the fact that I'm an excruciatingly slow reader. I don't like to skim, and this has a lot to do with the kind of entries that can be found on my library records / Border's receipt. You see, I have a brutal, merciless Venn Diagram in my brain that governs my prefrences. One circle, a comforting sky blue color, loops around the entirety of sci-fi and fantasy, or meat and potatoes. Nothing special there. The second circle, overlapping only slightly, is a orange-yellow orb of self-righteous intellectualism... let's just call it "literature." Here reside the references to obscure mythological themes, the jinking and weaving etymologies that lead to a plot-relevant discovery.
You can see my problem, yes? It is that the overlapping area is so thin as to be nearly nonexistant... still, I seek it out because neither the yellow nor blue circle by itself will suffice. But, when found, it is a green avocado slice of the purest endorphin-rush. This is a verdant land where Gene Wolfe is King.
Thusly, I just finished Dan Simmons' The Fall of Hyperion, which was a highly entertaining sequel to a highly entertaining far-flung-futuristic take on the Canterbury Tales. And now, with nothing on my To-Read List, I'm panicking.
