I was always a bookworm. I actually learned to read so young that I don’t have memories of my life that don’t include reading. I was not even 3 years old when I was reading a book featuring a dog. I have a distinct memory of the book with a dog, but not a very detailed memory.

Today I was in the bookstore, completely lost in the description on the back of a book. I’d just previously been completely lost in reading a graphic novel version of a novel I have read and know well. (Leanne, have you seen the Anita Blake graphic novels? I found them fascinating!) I’d also not long before been talking to someone about how this sometimes feels like an addiction. I have that hard a time putting books down. Actually, I have that hard a time not picking a book up.

So, lost in the snippet of a world revealed on the back of a book, I was startled to hear someone say “Excuse me!”

Assuming I’d been in the way, I turned, expecting to hear that they had wanted to look at a book in the area I was blocking.

“May I recommend a book to you?” was what he said instead.

I agreed, of course, only half in the real world, having been jerked so abruptly out of the book world I’d been immersed in a second before.

He showed me a book, the first in a series, by an author he couldn’t praise enough. I’d never heard of the author or the series, but I bought the book he recommended. It did sound interesting, though it is more science fiction than fantasy, and my biggest weakness is modern urban fantasy. (much of which is my beloved vampire fiction.)

As soon as he finished telling me about the books, and I thanked him, he walked away. I felt so disoriented by the exchange.

I should have asked if he was the author! 😀

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