As it happens, I’ve read nine authors three times. I love the symmetry of it. My two previous posts were about authors who compelled me to be a return customer. For my final post on the topic, I will look at a slightly different issue. Sometimes reading an author a few times sours me on them.
Here are three authors who taught me that three is enough.
1.
When I read Infinity for my book club, I felt the kick that comes from discovering new talent. A moody, atmospheric, feminist Victorian novel, I would put it in my top 50 reads. Alas, I have yet to have a successful second date with the author. Tipping the Velvet was just OK and I liked The Little Stranger even less. At some point all the period detail becomes suffocating.
2.
I’m not sure how I have managed to read three books in this series. A cozy about an amateur sleuth who is also a baker, I would rate only one of them any good. Implausible twists, plot holes, and a slightly hokey setting slow down the praise. Occasionally the kook worked for me, but not enough for me to keep going.
3.
The Wife Between Us was a top 25 book for me. I will never forget stealing paragraphs at my nephew’s touch football game because I was enthralled. I liked this one, too: a complicated plot about single women in the city. By the third, though, I was starting to be able to see the authors’ bag of tricks. When plotting becomes repetitive, it is easier to notice flat characterization and unimaginative settings.
Books Smitten 