can't put it down

I'm not an avid reader--never was.  My brother could read book after book; my Mom read constantly until her eyes started failing.  But I've gone through months, years, when I haven't picked up a book.  Reading epapers and surfing the net don't count.  I was determined to read Moby Dick, so I started it last spring--agony.  The only time I made inroads was when we flew to Hawaii, and I had hours with nothing else to do.  I finally finished just a week ago, when we were on our ski vacation, and I stayed in one day when my son was sick.  I felt like the whale did me in as much as the crew.

I had bought Wolf Hall some moths ago (I go on book buying spurts), but wouldn't start reading it until I had slogged through the tale of the whale.  So I finally started reading it this week, and COULDN'T PUT IT DOWN.  I have one more chapter to go, which I'll likely finish tonight.  I was disappointed to find that the sequel, Bring Up the Bodies, isn't available in paperback until May.  I don't know what I'll read until then--I have a couple of yoga books I started and put down.  Books I should read.  So I'm not sure I can hold out until May.  Even though I'm trying not to be so impulsive when I want something.  But only certain books appeal to me, and when they do, I can't wait to find out what happens.  And I don't know what to do when I've finished--I miss the characters.  That was true of Jane Austen.  With Wolf Hall, I'm fascinated by Cramner's brilliance; how people know what to say and do and hedge their bets--or be several steps ahead of everyone.  I was never a chess player.