I’ve gotten back into the reading groove by scaring myself with Clive Barker’s novel The Thief of Always.
In the vein of The Phantom Tollbooth, The Thief of Always follows Harvey Swick who is tired of being bored. He’s whisked away by a stranger to Mr. Hood’s Holiday House, a magical home beyond the mist where it’s Halloween every evening, Christmas every night and all of your wildest dreams are simply a wish away.
Just don’t go to the lake.
These types of stories always do well to remind me that I shouldn’t A) complain about being bored. There’s a whole facinating world out there and I’m free to get in my car and drive anywhere and I should be grateful for that. And also B) Even if it isn’t perfect driving/touristing weather (like today) I have about a billion books to read and there’s nothing boring about that.