It’s all because of Atonement. I have drank from the well of Ian McEwan and I fear I’ll never be quite the same again. In fact, I know I won’t be the same. I have not thought about a book as much as I have thought about this book. Ever. I haven’t so much as touched another book since I finished it and it has been over two weeks. I am grieving the loss of the characters and not getting to hang out with them. It’s worse than a blaring headache, because a headache can be handled with a few Advil. It’s the writing that won’t let me go. How can we stay in the heads of these characters the whole time without it feeling like the Whinerton’s Family Reunion?

How. Does. He. Do. That?