|Image Courtesy: Google|
Image Courtesy: Google
Much like the situation I suggested in the previous post here, I found a John Grisham title in one of the local book stores in the city. The year was 2010 and the book was The Confession. It was making to the bestseller lists and I had read mixed reviews on the book in NY Times. I bought The Confession right away; had to spend Rs: 250. But I was happy. That was the first ever book I bought by Grisham. First one to attempt to read, as well.
The opening of the book had the flow. But it did not have what I wanted then—new age spirituality. I was dying for more and reading Richard Bach and Castaneda, also I was fascinated by Sidney Sheldon’s autobiographic novel, The Other Side of Me. It was not a new age book on spirituality, but it had the pull, so I munched on it anyway.
Meanwhile, Grisham was forgotten. At the end of chapter six, I had stopped reading. There was a really nice book mark that was packed with the book when I bought it. I planted it in the space between two pages. It stayed there for a long time, almost two years.