They sit on the shelves and wait for me.
Every now and then, I wander over and examine the titles. “I loved that author’s series books,†I think. But her single titles remain on the to-be-read bookcase. I bought them all, tried a few, but something happened. Either the writing or my taste changed—I don’t know which.
I glance at another author’s recent titles. The first books she wrote touched me beyond words. The next ones were good but didn’t cross over the edge into great. I forgot about books five and six mere days after putting them down. So the latest ones sit, banished by my fear that revisiting that beloved author will force me to let go.
Half a dozen similar situations inhabit my bookshelves. The reasons certain books remain unread may vary, but they boil down to one thing—when I pick up the books, I can’t find the magic. There might be magic in the pages, but it doesn’t resonate with me.
But those same shelves hold treasures, too. Books I bought because I read something online that made them sound interesting. Or because someone I trust recommended them. Or the cover caught my eye at the bookstore. Whatever my reason for buying them, they sit on the shelves next to all the others.
Waiting.
Somehow, when I think there’s no more magic, I find the treasured read—the one that makes me laugh, makes me cry, or makes me think. Sometimes I am swept away by the language a writer uses. Other times I take pleasure in a well-crafted story. I find the magic again. And that makes it worth the time.
When was the last time you felt the magic?
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I recently read The Bridal Quest by Candace Camp and wow, simply wow. I can count the romance novels on my keeper shelf on my fingers and wonders of all wonders, this novel is making its way on that shelf.
I’ve really been pleased the last few months over the quality of romances (especially my fave – historical). It has re-ignited my passion for the genre. Very exciting!
Last time I felt the magic?
That would have to be PRINCES OF THE GOLDEN CAGE by Nathalie Mallet. It’s a Fantasy, not a Romance (although there is a romantic sub-plot.) However, Ms. Mallet nailed just about everything. She had a compelling story AND she crafted it so well that everything was balanced and progressed at just the right speed. She twisted and twisted the plot and had me on such an emotional wave doing so that I had no idea who the villain was until she revealed him. Awesome.
The last Romance novel with the magic? Hmmm… DOWN HOME ZOMBIE BLUES by Linnea Sinclair. I’m still cleaning zombie doo-doo out of my ears.
I think the ‘magic’ varies from reader to reader, and readers also change too. My definition of Romance as a twenty year old is radically different than it is now, almost two decades later.
Snowfall at Willow Lake — actually any Susan Wiggs ends up grabbing me. I’ve embarrasssed myself by crying while reading on the bike at the Y.
Of course, there are more — I love Eve & Roarke, so all the JD Robbs are keepers, too.
I finally got around to reading J.R. Ward’s Black Dagger Brotherhood books a few months ago. Read them all back to back and loved, Loved, LOVED every delicious moment of it.
I haven’t been able to find that kind of magic since. I’ve been getting worried. I miss sinking into a book and losing myself for a few days.
For me, feeling the magic is when I pick up a book, read the blurb and am instantly struck with excitement. Its happened twice recently and I’ve read one of the books and thoroughly enjoyed it (to the point where I don’t want to read anything else for a while, just want to sit an bask in the greatness) and the other one was suggested by a blog and I am so excited about it I can’t stand it.
Its wonderful that writers can do that for people, I am sure (besides the bills) that is why they write.
GRIMSPACE by Ann Aguirre. That was my most recent magic induced reading experience.
But thankfully I still find magic every time I read Lilith Saintcrow, Rachel Caine, Kim Harrison. None of these ladies books have ever disappointed me.
I found the magic–literally and figuratively–in Sarah Addison Allen’s “Garden Spells” (her first novel, set in small town NC). It was a freebie from RWA National a couple of years ago, sat on my TBR shelf for a year, and then I opened it one day, and…magic.
I’ve read it six times since, and that’s something I’ve never done before…I don’t even buy DVDs, because once I’ve seen a movie…well, I’ve seen it. The magic rarely lasts for me beyond one read, but this novel is the exception.
Other faves? Anything by Susan Elizabeth Phillips (especially “Ain’t She Sweet?”), or Nora Roberts (“Midnight Bayou” is incredible).
I’m seeing a trend here–southern comfort. I grew up in the south, but haven’t lived there in years. I agree with Kimber An: the “magic” is that indefinable something that speaks to each of us on an elemental level…it gently guides us to that subconcious (and often, nostalgic or imaginary) place we call “home.”
I just felt the magic in a most unexpected place – a Harlequin Presents. A Wife to Remember by Karen van der Zee, not even a favorite author of mine. It was tender, it was thoughtful, the hero didn’t behave like a jerk once!
I usually enjoy Presents for how over-the-top they are, but this was just a sweet, moving story.
I didn’t keep The Bridal Quest but it was certainly the best book by Candace Camp I’ve read so far.
I feel it everytime I read the next Elizabeth George mystery in her long running series. Each time I think I’ll take my time and not let reading interfere with my other work, but then I get half way through and I can’t put it down. Last time I stayed up until 2:00am and had to get up at 5:30am for work.
Charlaine Harris’ Sookie Stackhouse series and L.A. Banks’ Vampire Huntress Legends always give me a jolt. I recently re-read both series’ in their entirety and the VHL series, in particular, had me cheering and choked up like I’d never read the books before.
Hmmmm. The first one that comes to mind is Amy Belden Brown’s Mr. Emerson’s Wife, which was so good I could hardly stand it. Many times I find “the magic” in the more thoughtful mysteries, like Michael Connelly’s Bosch series or, just recently, Steve Thayer’s The Weatherman. And I loved Wilkie Collin’s The Woman in White. In all of these books, the characters are so real to me that I have a sense of them going on without me in some other universe. Usually, though, I don’t require any magic. I am more than happy with a book that distracts me from all the tattling and whining and dirty diapers.