It's not unusual for me to read a book a week for long spells. I'm an ardent reader and have been since I was very young. I always feel better about my life (regardless of whatever else is going on) if I have those quiet moments on the subway or Starbucks to squeeze in a chapter.
William Boyd's Any Human Heart was a definite favourite of recent years, a book I still miss reading. I bought his latest, Restless, some time ago but it sat on my bookshelf as I picked away at other books, failing to hone in on anything substantial. I typically buy books faster than I read them, even at my fastest speed. But finally, on Friday, I grabbed Restless off the shelf and spent all day yesterday gobbling it. At 5am I finished it. Satisfied, sad, a little unsettled.