old friends, bookends

     Accomplishment.  Something that has been achieved successfully.  A victory. 
     Like finishing a book.  That feeling you get when you close the cover for the last time, set the book down in your lap, and look up and to the right with a smile on your face.  Victory. 
     Who's victory?  Yours, or the book's?  
     This time, it was the book that triumphed.  East of Eden.  One of those good books.  The kind that stays with you.  Not only the memories of the scenes and the images and the emotions.  The book, its style and its attitude; they stay too.  Everyday scenes as trivial as going to the bathroom or spreading peanut butter on a bagel are laced with that narrative voice in your head, but after the book ends the narrative voice speaks with the voice of the author.  
     Think about it: Steinbeck's voice in your head.  This is the magic of literature.  It gets in your head and rules you.  It becomes you.  That's also why it's so dangerous.
     But Steinbeck in my head isn't that dangerous.  It's rather nice.  I'll take it.  

     After a good book, a euphoria overtakes me.  I am swept away by the book and its goodness and the beauty of reading in general.  I am hungry, like you get once you take a bite of really good steak.  You get hungry for more.  Ravenous, really.  I want to pick up my next book and devour it as fast as I am able.  
     Which is why I make myself wait before picking up my next book.  A whole day, maybe even two.  Because it's nice to spend a couple of days with Steinbeck in my head before I let Dostoyevsky in.  John was kind enough to write that book for me; the least I can do is give him a couple extra days in my head.  
     I owe it to him.  Because at the book-end, we've become old friends.  This book is all that's left of you, John, and I'll preserve it (at least for a couple days).  I promise you. 

"Well, here's your box.  Nearly everything I have is in it, and it is not full.  Pain and excitement are in it, and feeling good or bad and evil thoughts and good thoughts--the pleasure of design and some despair and the indescribable joy of creation.  And on top of these are all the gratitude and love I have for you.  And still the box is not full." 
     -forward, East of Eden, John Steinbeck