Rediscovering past favorites

I'm a chain reader.  I pick up a book, enjoy it, fish around for another by the same author; repeat. No matter how good the author is, this cycle can turn me off.  Case and point: Agatha Christie. When I was in 6th grade, I devoured her books. I'd been proud of myself for correctly guessing the murderer at a dinner theater production of And Then There Were None--though I'd recently read the book, so it wasn't due to my own cleverness--and I continued to enjoy her books.  Until I didn't.  Just at the time that my family discovered my newfound interest, I was over it.  The used copies of Agatha Christie novels sat on my shelves unread for two decades.

I don't know what prompted me this year to seek out Christie.  Perhaps it was casual mentions of some of her books on the What Should I Read Next Podcast or comments after the release of Murder on the Orient Express in 2017.  Whatever it was, I dug out some of my Agatha Christie, and I enjoyed it.  I liked that the pacing compelled me forward and that I usually didn't guess (or didn't read slowly enough to guess) the culprit.  I appreciate that while her stories often include murder, it's not gruesome, and I don't get nightmares.

So this time, I'm pacing myself. I've purposely left Hallowe'en Party unread, so I'll have more Christie to look forward to.  It's the last physical Agatha Christie book I have here unread, and I plan to read it this October. Libby carries quite a few of her books, but even these I'm parcelling out in between other reads.

Have you ever read too much of an author?  Have you come back to him or her?

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