Why is it that some special books/movies/songs/whatever tickles your fancy can just hit you right there, and reduce you to a blubbering mess?
For me, one of the all-time culprits at doing this is Bryce Courtenay’s The Power of One. I remember reading it about 10 years ago and crying not far into the book. Today I started it again and was crying by page 4.
Is this just a great book, or is there something wrong with me???
It didn´t help that I started reading it on a bus trip heading towards Ecuador’s main Incan ruins at Ingapirca. Instead of fully appreciating the ruins I was wanting to get back on to the bus home and read more.
Similarly right now I’m so tempted to go back to the hotel and veg out for a few hours reading it, instead of what I should be doing, namely going back, packing, having dinner and then attempting to go out, it being Saturday night and all.
After all I have a 4 hour bus ride and a 4 hour train ride on the cards for tomorrow. If that’s not quality reading time then I don’t know what is!!