Nick Hornby on finishing a great book

For the first time since I’ve been writing this column, the completion of a book has left me feeling bereft: I miss them all.  Let’s face it: usually you’re just happy as hell to have chalked another one up on the board, but this last month I’ve been living in this hyperreal world, full of memorable, brilliantly eccentric people, and laughs (I hope you know how funny Dickens is), and proper bendy stories you want to follow.  I suspect that it’ll be difficult to read a pared-down, stripped-back, skin-and-bones novel for a while.

Nick Hornby, on finishing David Copperfield, in The Polysyllabic Spree, p80

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