“I see you shiver with antici…”

It’s here, it’s here, it’s here…Catching Fire.  Look at that sexy cover.  I haven’t been this excited about a book, or film, or show for a while (although HBO is developing a pilot called “Game of Thrones” with some yummy actors but this is year or so off) 

 Part of my excitment is that Hunger Games, the book before Catching Fire, was the most surprising, exciting and intriguing book I read in 2008.  It also featured a tough/strong female lead, a touch of romance and some great action.  She out runs a freaking forest fire!  I don’t know where this love of a good action sequence came from but it’s almost required for my enjoyment of anything.  So I loved the first book, but why the itchy, burning desire for the next amoung all the other series I read?  And why do I crave that shiver?  That antici…pation.

But anticipation is as much a motivation to read as escapism or information seeking.  The desire, nay, the need to find out what happens next is why we start, finish and fight over books.  That’s what good authors do, make you care about the characters or the story enough to find out how it ends.  I’m afflicted with the need to know how something ends.  I’m notorious for jumping to the end, reading spoilers, watching episodes in reverse order.  I remember asking a friend who died at the end of Pearl Harbor so I wouldn’t have to see it.  But when I hold back and restrain myself, oh, OH, how sweet the anticipation tastes.

To tease myself a bit more, I’m finishing my stack of library books before I start Catching Fire.  Okay maybe I’m waiting for the weekend because I know I’ll be up until all hours, half blind, reading just one more page, one more page.  I’m stretching this out because the next book will be so far away and once I give to the anticipation I’m a slave to the just one more page, one more page.