There. That's it. It's done. I shut the book with a satisfying thump, and put it on my table. I've finally finished Stephen King's The Stand. Unabridged. Uncut. Complete. All 1421 pages of it. Me, who have been having problems reading Lovecraftian short stories and shallow literary standins of Jack's Bad Day. Once again, I stand in awe of the master, for words truly are his power. The Stand, a book which I would never have considered reading in the past, devoured in less than a month of reading. By the end, I am sad and regretful that my journey with King's epic cast has come to an end. It was not without some reluctance (but with such hurried anticipation!) that I ended The Stand.
Now that top management in my company has decreed that we should work hard (and not work late for the sake of working), I intend to make an effort leave work early to read more. Only people like King and David Gemmell can make me miss the joy of reading, the art of throwing myself into another place another time another person... and living the lives of millions. A good book is always better than a vacation elsewhere. And cheaper, too.