For those of you unfamiliar with the expression “book hangover”, this is the best definition I can offer you.
The first time this has happened to me was last summer after I finished The Hunger Games trilogy. I had read the three books in less than 5 days. I embraced Panem as if it were my own world. Once the series was over I felt some kind of void that no other book could fill, not even the sweet lovey dovey novels written by Cecelia Ahern. During my first semester of college, I tried to read a few books and failed miserabely. The only one I read from cover to cover was Ernest Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast and then later Stephe Chbosky’s The Perks of Being a Wallflower.
I read this last one in November and again, since then, I haven’t been able to pick up anything else. Ahern’s Thanks For The Memories is still bookmarked at the thirteenth chapter while the ones I bought at the beginning of my winter break are just sitting in my bookcase, still untouched.
I have always considered myself a reader, but considering recent events and circumstances I have to say I am rather disappointed in myself and my performance, or lack of in this case. Being book hangover is not a treat, it’s a punishment of sorts. I am going back to campus by the end of this semester. I will try to make it an objective to at least read the books I have before getting into that oh so long booklist I made a few months ago. I don’t need any more reasons to be frustrated with myself now do I?
Have you ever been book hangover? Or had writer’s block? I think the two are quite similar.