It's happened to me many times. Each time has been the same. First the discovery of a new book - that I know, almost before opening it, is going to be special. And it is. I don't want to stop reading it, but equally I don't want to finish it. I carry it around with me. Everywhere. Even when I know I'll have no chance to read it. It's the most important reason to have a handbag.
Then the discovery that the author has written more. Such excitement. And relief. I don't have to worry about what I'll read next. The decision has been made for me.
It started with the onset of being able to read. I still remember suddenly realising (apparently when I was just two and a half) that I was reading the words of an Andy Pandy book in my head and not listening to my mother reading it to me. It was a magical magical moment, and I have never forgotten it.
So my latest discovery is doubly exciting.
I can feel a list coming on.