Literary interruptus

I was in the middle of "World Without End," the second part of Ken Follett's trilogy that began with "The Pillars of the Earth."

Then I saw it ... another book. I didn't even need another book, but the book shelf at my bridge club, where other bridge players bring their used books, always whispers to me as I walk by.

"Come here sweetheart," it cooed. "I'm sure you'll find something you'll like."

So I walked over, the whole time telling myself that the last thing I needed was another book. I have shelves full of them, all waiting patiently to be read.

But I looked anyway. Most of the stuff had been there for ages.

And I had almost turned away when I spied it -- "A Gesture Life" by Chang-Rae Lee.

It had won some kind of award. It had a nice cover. I peeked inside. I read a page or two.

I was hooked.

So "World Without End" is now on that sad pile of books that got interrupted by other books that caught my eye, that I read about and then just had to have, that were lent to me with the obligation to read quickly.

Am I the only one who suffers from this ailment? Is there a cure?