Serial Reader

When I was younger, I was into series.  I liked the Baby-Sitters Club and the Boxcar Children and Martine books and a wave of others.  I liked those familiar characters, even though at some point I did start skipping those five or ten pages that were there specifically to let readers who were suddenly joining the series in progress understand what was going on.

Not so much anymore.

Series annoy me at the moment.  Maybe because they simply drag on for too long.

I might be spoiled by the world of instant communication and quick access, but when I’m done a book, I don’t want to have to wait four years for the next part.  I want to know what’s going to happen right away.  I’m stuck on these characters and I want to make sure they make it out okay or achieve whatever it is I am cheering them toward.

I’m sure that I’m missing a lot of great novels this way. I’m also delaying on seeing a lot of movies because I want to read the books first and refuse to do so before the complete series has been released.

I’m impatient, and that might be causing me to miss a lot of great literature, but there is so much great literature out there, that I suppose I can wait, distracting myself with a story that has an end and won’t leave me worrying until I can get my next fix.