It's my normal process for determining what book to read. I look, and consider, and drink it all in.
Sometimes, there's a tug. It's like my mind focuses not on the whole, but on that one book that is being highlighted. Call it intuition, call it kismet, whatever you call it, I pick this book that somehow is not begging for me to read it, it is demanding my attention. I don't know how, but I know I am meant to read this book, and I will enjoy it.
I suppose I could read the synopsis, but often it just reaffirms what I already knew: this is a big that's part of a special company: books that are MINE. They appeal to me. They are what I look for in literature. They will enthrall, and enchant. They will break hearts, and make me believe that I am capable of anything.
I just know somehow, when holding certain books, that they are something special. And holding the book, then reading it, savouring every word, it's right to me. Sometimes, the world is all wrong, but books, like these, make it completely right.
I can't know if anyone else feels like this. I am one of the most analytic people you shall meet, but there are some things where it's just about feeling and trusting what you feel. I do have and express my more impulsive, spontaneous desires. I can't recall ever having been lead wrong by this, whatever you want to call it, but I'll call it siren's call. Because when you know, you just know.
Here's some of the books that called to me.
I can't make this a fairy tale: it's possible I've felt the call and I could have been disappointed by the book. I can't remember that situation. It's something I'm not going to analyze, I'm just going to be thankful that it's possible to find incredible books when you least expect it.