I finished reading Nora Ephron's latest book, I Remember Nothing. It is so depressing to finish one of her books. Since I was given the book for Christmas, I have been savoring each page and trying to ration chapters. Like a really good dessert, I want the joy from the delicious words to last as long as possible. (It so happens that Nora writes about savoring dessert on page 74.) As a little treat, I let myself finish Nora's book last night. Now I am suffering from dessert-induced depression - a reader's melancholy. I have bonded with the author in a unique way which only bibliophiles understand. Now my conversation with Nora is over until her next work becomes available to a mere peasant like myself. I feel abandoned, just like when Zippy left and when Cassandra finished capturing the castle.
Despite my sense of abandonment, I feel like Ms. Ephron and I are friends. Obviously, this means I am on a first-name basis with Nora. If Nora knew this, she might object, considering I am guilty of following her work in a cult-ish way. My obsession with You've Got Mail has only grown stronger as the years have passed - it is the best RomCom ever made. Period. I have even written a persuasive essay in my journal about why I Feel Bad About My Neck is such a smashing hit. I could continue.
Back to the topic of I Remember Nothing: read it. I know you'll love it.
Just be prepared for dessert-induced depression.
And Nora, my friend, please publish again soon.