I read My Sister’s Keeper on a trip to Wisconsin. Because I’d finished the book I’d brought with me, and Mom had borrowed it from a friend. So it was there. So I read it. And couldn’t stop.
So I got my hands on every other Jodi Picoult book I could find. And there’s a lot. Thank goodness. I’ve been looking for another author with a long list of credits. I’ve gone through Anita Shreve, Margaret Atwood, and here and there found some authors I wish would write more. The problem with Picoult, though, is I start a book and I can’t tear myself away from it until I finish.
It must have something to do with how she writes her characters, because even though they themselves, the plots and settings are all very similar in her books, somehow they always draw me in deep from the very first few pages. There’s usually some sort of tragedy. A family at the center of the drama, and the story is told from multiple angles, often from a couple of characters involved in the legal process, lawyers, prosecutors, judges, detectives, etc.
Despite that sometimes it feels like I’ve read the book before, the details are unique enough that I can’t help fully engaging. Again. I could never write like that. Even when I tried my hand at fiction. I read more to find out what happens, and I can’t put my finger on what it is, exactly, that makes me want to know.
So I’m reading The Tenth Circle now. And it makes me want to go back and read Dante. But at the same time, I’ve only had the book in my house for a few days and I’m already almost through it. I don’t know how she does it, but I’ve got two more titles waiting for me at the library for when I’m done with this one. Though I’d better try to make them last a little bit, at least, since new books are never written fast enough for fans who are anxiously waiting read them. It’s nice to know there’s an author who won’t disappoint when I can’t find another book out there to do what hers do.