El fin...

Never being one to be too good with delayed gratification, my rationing of chapter while reading Scarlett quickly went out the window. Its been all I can do this week to get anything done, other than read that book. While brushing my teeth, bathing my daughter, making my bed, watching Sex in the City, and well past the hour that the lamp should have been extinguished, I have been reading. And last night, I ran out of pages.

While there is some relief, knowing that I'll actually get some stuff done now, I of course feel that dull ache in my heart that I now know as the void where Scarlett once was. If I were rich (or if I were Scarlett) I'd commission someone to just keep writing sequels, even if they weren't ever as good as the first. And when Scarlett breathed her last breath, I'd likely have this writer just keeping going with the lives of Scarlett's children, even the poor forgotten Wade and Ella left at the plantation with her crabby sister Suellen. Okay, okay -- I might be a bit too involved!

These two books have only wetted my appetite for reading good fiction, so I've been scouring book lists all over the internet trying to decipher what book could continue to kindle this flame for literature burning full in my heart. I am open to suggestions.

Anyone read Madame Bovary?