For some reason, Toby Lichtig feels compelled to finish books:

As a reviewer, I don't have the option of not finishing books (the least I can do is read every word – especially if I'm then going to be unkind). But the compulsion is just as prevalent in my leisure reading. I often have several unfinished books sitting by my bed, staring at me accusingly.

I don't have the will to put them away until I've finished them. It's a sort of a pact: master me and I will release you. Maybe I hate the idea of missing out on some wonderful potential saving grace in the last sentence. Maybe I've got an unhealthily acquisitive relationship with culture. Maybe I'm just a bit weird.

This syndrome (Obsessive conclusion disorder?) is all the more exasperating when I think of how few books we get to read in a lifetime. 3,000? 4,000? And that's for bookaholics. It doesn't feel like many.

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