It’s always a good feeling to finish a book. I got that today when I finished The Strain by Guillermo del Toro and Chuck Hogan. It’s the 8th book I’ve read so far this year. That number could’ve been bigger if comics and films and TV series weren’t competing for my attention. Once upon a time I could finish 50 books in a year. When I got a regular job and started missing that target I trimmed it down to 30. And then 20. This year I ditched the target altogether. It’s an unnecessary pressure anyway.
As is always the case, it took me awhile to chose the next book to read. Since I’m done with The Strain, the first book in a trilogy, the next logical step is to pick up the sequel, The Fall. But fearing vampire fatigue, I reckoned I would be better off picking something else. Not an easy task, though, considering my super bloated backlog, both in actual books and the stuff on my Kindle. Still, after digging into boxes and boxes of books, I ended up with Farewell Summer by Ray Bradbury (got intimidated by Stephen King’s Duma Key with its over 600 pages, and I couldn’t find my copy of Neil Gaiman’s Anansi Boys). It’s light reading, and I think I can finish it in 10 days or less.
Then, afterward, perhaps I can proceed with The Fall. Then another non-vampire book — thinking of a rock star biography, why not? Or a detective noir novel — before finishing off the trilogy with The Night Eternal. Sounds like a plan.