Book Sads.

A couple of weeks ago my massage therapist suggested I read a non-fiction series called The Hunger Games. I nodded and smiled but am not usually one to hunt down books. On a whim I asked around at work if anyone had heard of it- Wendy piped up and said Yes, she bought it for her boys- who are pre-teens. It briefly crossed my mind that it was kind of pathetic to be reading the same books as an 11 year old, however that was quickly forgotten when she agreed to lend them to me.
 
Once I started the book I couldn't seem to put the book down. It was both captivating and slightly disturbing. Every second I wasn't reading it I was thinking about the story and what might happen next. I didn't have to wait long. I finished the first book in two days.
 
I immediately started reading the second book and devoured it nearly as quickly as I did the first book. I was rather surprised at the twists and turns in the story, none of my predictions for book two came true. I didn’t find the second book to be as interesting as the first, but that’s to be expected- the novelty of a new story had already worn off. Don’t get me wrong, at this point I was dying to read the third book.

I asked around and the third book (Mockingjay) was elusive. After a week I managed to borrow a copy. When I reached the half way point of the book I started another book on the side. It’s not like I was cheating on the Hunger Game series, but I just wanted to delay the story Now that I was almost near the end I couldn’t bear for it to be over. What if I didn’t like the ending? What if the main character died? I spent the next week hanging on to the book, reading a few pages here and there, devouring every word, savoring every scene. I finally got to the end of the book and I felt so relieved to finally find out how the story ends. I was pleased with the way the author wrapped everything up in a conclusive ending, a nice tidy package.

Two minutes after that I felt sad. Lost even. My mind had nowhere farther to wander with the story. All the loose ends had neatly been tied up, the characters were done with me. I had what I call a case of the Book Sads. It’s not an official medical term (yet) but the symptoms are feelings of loss and abandonment, intense nostalgia and depression. This happens every time I get into a series. It’s like a drug. You get high off the adventure and then come crashing down when it’s over. The only thing that tides you over is the hope you will soon stumble upon a new, even better series.

It’s been three whole days since I finished the Hunger Games and I’m beginning to feel better. Lucky for me, the series have been translated into film and are coming to theaters in March. I will be starting a countdown shortly.