I always have a stack of books on my bedside table, though I never read more than one at once. If I am in the middle of reading a book and leave it somewhere, I will just start another book until the first one is returned. Not so with Capote.
This book held me captive like a killer. The day I left it at a friend's house, it consumed me even more. I called some second hand bookshops to see if I could track down a copy, but I couldn't.
I waited. I waited. Like a prisoner on death row. I knew what was ahead of me, but I was desperate to reach the end.