A novel addiction

Did I ever mention my addiction to novels?  I was quite hopelessly addicted throughout my school years.  Well, since the age of seven, anyway, when I discovered the school library.  Of course, at that age it was considered quite cute and scholarly of me. 

There are significant advantages in having an addiction that is socially acceptable (even laudable, in some circles).  There aren’t many addictions one can openly indulge in on the 7:40am citybound train, for instance.  I found it quite amusing, through high school, that I could be as lost in my desperate escapism as the alcoholic kids and the dope fiends, far worse gone than the video game addicts, and yet be considered temperate and something of a goody-goody. 

I got the addiction fairly well under control after I finished school, when life became bearable again.  I don’t read much fiction now.  I just finished the first novel I’ve read in almost a year.  I feel a little guilty for sacrificing two days to it, but I’m not afraid of the pull of it now.  I have a clearer idea of what I can control and what I can’t. 

I got to wondering, the other day, what makes one person become hopelessly addicted to something, while another uses it on occasion, gains benefit from the experience, and remains in control of himself.  I was listening to an argument between two acquaintances, one of whom had been a dope addict, the other a casual user. 

I was thinking at the time that the difference might lie in the degree of respect the user had for the drug.  The former addict never mentioned any benefit he gained from it.  He simply craved it and used it ravenously, never finding any comfortable stopping point.  The casual user was, I understand, a philosophy student who used it to gain insights.  I’ve used it a very few times myself, for insights, but I never became addicted. 

It makes me wonder if there is a similarity here to food.  If, after eating meals, one refuses to stop eating and allow time to digest the food, surely that becomes a food addiction.  I would think that either the food is deficient in some way, or something other than food is required, or else that the person is simply not respecting the food and trusting it to nourish them.  I know an addiction can arise from trying to fill a spiritual need with something that is by nature finite. 

Thinking about my approach to novels, it seems to work along similar lines.  The trick to stop a hunger turning into an addiction is to show respect and allow time for digestion.  Don’t start a new book until the last is fully digested.  And consume good quality novels.  Oh, and I do get a lot out of a good book.  My source of insights. 

Well, I guess that’s what I’m doing now.  Letting it percolate.  I think there’ll be a lot in this one.  Robin Hobb just gets better and better.