A couple of weeks ago, I finished "Dombey and Son," my second slow read of the year. When I turned that last page, I felt bereft. Oh, no, I thought; I'm done! Now what?
Such a great novel. Such great characters. And how typical of Charles Dickens to leave no mystery, no questions, but to tie up every loose end and finish the story of every character. (I knew Mr. Toots was going to marry Susan, I just knew it.)
It's hard, after finishing a book that captivates and consumes, to plunge into something new, don't you think? That book you just finished is still in your mind.
And yet there's no bleaker feeling than having nothing to read. That feeling of being "between books" is unsettling. It makes me feel, sometimes, that I will never read another book. I pace. I fret. I play a lot of solitaire on my phone.
But of course there is an easy solution: Always have more than one book going.
And so when I finished "Dombey," I had options: I was only halfway through the other novel I was reading, and only about a quarter of the way into a book of narrative nonfiction.
It's much easier to keep going with something you've already started than it is to just start something new. This is one reason why I always stagger my books.
I compare it to my philosophy of owning dogs: Two at a time.