I’m about 3000 pages into a Swords and Sorcery series I don’t even really like. How the heck did this happen? Well, like all bad habits, it has excuses.
I picked up the first one during the summer doldrums because it was lying around the house. Got absorbed, then bored, swore off it, finished it. Same for the second volume.
The third volume seemed unaccountably better (other readers assure me this is not true.) Then I did the unthinkable–I PURCHASED volume four.
I was so embarrassed I hid it in the car. Then I realized, it wasn’t my fault. I was a victim! Of the Stockholm Syndrome, where hostages start to identify with their captors. That was it–these knights, maidens, magicians, dragons, ships, cities, et. al. had me hostage for so long I began to like them! To want more.
Thousands of pages more.
