Man, talk about falling off the wagon. A day or two became a week or two, which then became a couple of months.
In other news, I finally finished the remaining novels from Sir Terry Pratchett’s Discworld series. A somewhat bittersweet moment. Considering most of my fantasy reading for the last decade has been Discworld, it feels rather strange to have “finished” them. Of course, considering the 40-something novels involved and the fact that it took me close to a decade to get around to reading them, I could probably start over again at the beginning and find some of them quite new again. I suspect I might even appreciate some of the earlier works more now than I did the first time through.
I find myself reluctant to do so, though. In fact, I’ve been maintaining a healthy distance from fiction since I finished the final book. I took a detour a few months ago and read some novels pretty far off my beaten path, but at the moment don’t feel particularly inclined to read anything.
It’s not an unfamiliar sensation either. Comparable to finishing a reasonably immersive book, but on a larger scale. It’s a strange sense of satisfaction with a note of loss. I’ve noticed it used in advertising streaming services as well. The rather manipulatively named “Show Hole.” The implication being that it’s bad needs to be filled with one of their TV shows.
I personally associate it instead with a decent ending. I enjoyed the series and remain thankful for the ideas and concepts that Sir Terry introduced me to along the way. There’s a high likelihood that I will reread some or all of them, at one point or another. For now, though, I shall simply rest and allow my thoughts to settle. Staring into the void and letting it stare back until I feel adequately reset.
Y’all take care.