If you are anything like me, you have discovered that a book you are partway through starts to feel like a person waiting on you. Not urgently. Just there, on the nightstand, about a third of the way in, quietly aware that you said you would be back.
Booked Solid runs with that. The joke is that a reader's calendar is genuinely full, it is simply full of characters, and anyone who has ever turned down a Friday because they were close to the end knows the appointment was real.
There is something underneath it that is worth saying plainly, which is that reading is one of the few remaining things that asks for your whole attention and gives something back for it. No notifications. No second screen. Just you and a voice that has been waiting however long it took you to get there.
For the readers with a stack on the nightstand and a list of people they have not finished meeting yet.
