I recently noticed that I hardly ever cry over the books I read, even though I do read quite a lot. The text never quite gets me in that way, if you catch my drift. And, to be honest, I can't see how or why anyone else would. I've met people who say they do such things, though, and it confuses me. It's a story, you know.

(Although there was that one incident when I decided to read The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents by the marvelous Terry Pratchett and felt a sharp pang in my stomach as the waterlogged, fictional book Mr. Bunnsy Has an Adventure is found. You wouldn't understand; it's symbolic, you see.)

So... anyone out there with thoughts on this? Frankly, I don't get it, but any sort of insight would be readily appreciated. Or maybe I'm just extremely lacking in emotion and am missing out on something the rest of the world seems to get.