I also kinda sorta dabble in writing sometimes.
I don't take myself nearly as seriously as anything i write here. But it's fun to write so with that said................I don't think I ever have felt searing love for the entirety of a book- that is that any idealistic stylization of my love for books are somewhat exaggerated but truly I feel that passion happens in the span of an infinite and unexpected moment. Sometimes though, I get into a spell when I'm reading where for a few seconds everything feels qualitatively different. Well crafted prose, powerful nostalgia- I spent a summer in Paris and was reading Hemmingway's 'A Movable Feast' and came upon a passage that situated me where I spent a lot of time in Paris. Nostalgia and well crafted prose are to me what the French call 'the little white death', the orgasm. Ever since experiencing this I have hoped, aspired that my romantic endeavors would feel this good. I think the book is out there and so is the girl, where plot (how we met), prose (the little details that comprise our interactions) and setting (Paris under night lamps?) come together to form that 'little white death' for longer than just a few sentences but maybe chapters and volumes and if we're really stretching this analogy to extend to having children, sequels and movie adaptations. The latter stretches the analogy to its elastic limit though.