Last night, the oppressive heat wave finally broke.
I spent much of the day indoors and trying to move as little as possible. I read. Specifically, I’ve been reading Stephen King’s Bag of Bones. Prior to that (while in Maine) I read his recent collection, Full Dark, No Stars, and enjoyed it and found myself once again wanting to read more King. It comes in waves now, I see, as I look back over my list. (Bag of Bones is the 18th Stephen King book I’ve read.)
I’m not certain why I chose it. I was considering a re-read of It (something I am still considering, but more on that another time) and decided that I should read something I hadn’t read yet. I know I’m not yet ready for The Dark Tower series; and Cujo wasn’t doing it for me. So I picked Bag of Bones because it sounded intriguing. It is supposed to be a ghost story and I’m dubious of ghost stories.
Except that so far, it is a fantastic ghost story. And I spent all of yesterday, hidden away from the head and tearing my way through about 300 pages of the novel, enjoying every minute of it. Part of the enjoyment comes from identifying with the narrator–I am not a successfully novelist as this narrator is; but I am a writer and I can empathize with his struggles. Part of it comes from the setting. We are just back from a short vacation in Maine1 and we really had a blast, so it was a nice to return there so soon. But mostly, it’s been a compelling ghost story, which I didn’t think was possible. I started the day about 175 pages into the book, and finally put down the book, reluctantly, nearly 300 pages later when I finally forced myself to go to sleep. Work in the morning, and an early meeting with London.
According to the Kindle app, I’m two-thirds of the way through the book at the moment, and I expect to finish in the next day or two. I’m not sure I can recall offhand the last time I read 300 pages in a single day–certainly not since the kids were born! But I am eager to continue, and despite all of my meetings today (long, long meetings) I had the same kind of anticipatory excitement for the end of the day that I get when I am about to head off on vacation.
But I suppose that makes sense, after all: a good book is very much like taking a vacation.
- Vacation posts are forthcoming. ↩