There’s no question that there’s a form to (say) noir mystery, just as there’s a form to high fantasy or sestinas or higgledy-piggledy poems. But seeing how the artist tells the story differently each time while still satisfying the awfully tight strictures of the form is much of the pleasure.

Infatuation: Once the novelty wears off, you’re happy to part ways. Because even though she/he had lovely paragraphs, and nice plotlines, there’s just no magic. No embers after the initial “ooo look at you” fire burns itself out.

Love: There’s something deeper that speaks to you. And that person needn’t reinvent themselves each time plotwise or thematically to turn you inside out. You just hope they’ll keep shinin’ and show’n the heart and soul what made you fall for ‘em in the first place. Be that poetry in their prose, or passion in their character(s), or particularly enchanting use of the em-dash.

Apologies for the over-extended metaphor in a blender. Set out for books and ended up in the wedding vows department…

I think that universe-building might be a factor. I went a little crazy reading tons of novels by Murakami, and somewhere along the way I thought, “Hey, I’ve seen these tricks before. Murakami, what gives?” But then I realized he was painting the landscape of a world that encompassed all of his books.

We’re used to thinking about universe-building when it comes to fantasy or sci-fi, but of course it happens with straight-up fiction, too (if there is such a thing). Henry James’s Washington Square, Portrait of a Lady, and The Bostonians are very different books, but they operate on the laws of James’s world: characters are morally right but wreak emotional disaster; characters betray their best selves.

But I only read 3 of James Patterson’s Alex Cross books. 5 of David Weber’s Honor Harrington series. I think I might have made it to book 6 of Terry Goodkind’s series.

Sometimes the world/plot/characters are so well done, I am enthralled and don’t notice the flaws, redundant plots, repeated character experience, etc. So it can take me longer before I bail.

It’s sort of a mixed bag. Writers who stick to similar themes, settings and characters tend to be an easier, more relaxing read. You know what you are getting. Writers who change genres, themes, everything, tend to be more hit and miss and I’m less likely to get on a tear and buy up all their books.

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with writers who take either approach of mixing it up or not mixing it up.

As a reader, you figure out quickly which type of writer you are dealing with.

As a (aspiring, but somewhat distracted)writer, I like the idea of 3 or 6 books series, but I’m not sure I could do 15-20 books of the same world/character theme/plot.

Then I started reading in order, and realized that the characters maintain the exact same points of tension in book after book after book. Some people still seem to be enthralled by the possibility that Heroine will finally get together with Guy She’s Not Sleeping With But Wants To, instead of Guy She’s Been Sleeping With (with occasional breakups) for many books, but, well, when I realized not one thing was going to happen, I lost interest.

Yes, it’s true, I could read more of them and try to figure out what people still see in the books–the above (as I recall, anyway) is only one of the ways in which movement is promised and then withheld, but you never know. After all, I stopped reading them, so I may be entirely missing something huge.

Somehow, I can’t seem to bestir myself to find out.

David Eddings >< Same themes, same characters (with different name/gender), same basic story (with a blue magic crystal the size of a child’s heart), same character expressions (“Be nice, dear”), same jokes.

So why do I still read his Belgariad/Mallorean and Elenium/Tamuli if I hold them in such low regard?

It’s like watching an old TV series you have seen before. Everything is familiar, and it’s just like a pleasant, light weight read. I reject the Elder Gods series and his Song of Regina. They didn’t fit into this model of being comfortable.

But with authors who can change dramatically from story to story, reading them is exciting and thrilling. Even if I have read the book a dozen times before, it still enthralls me. It is much easier to be loyal to them, and to say ‘I love’ instead of ‘I read’.

I totally agree about F. Scott Fitzgerald!

Recently I went through a phase where I just wanted faeries. Nothing but faeries, and the reason was because of Holly Black. I loved her novels, and I really wanted something that gave me a similar feeling, what that feeling was I can’t put into words, I just wanted faeries! Someone reccomended Wicked Lovely. I LOVED it! Some critic said it was a cheap imitation of Tithe, but I disagree. They just both give you the same feelings. And sometimes that’s just what you need when you can’t get more Holly Black because you’ve read all there is to read of Holly Black.

I think that is another part of the fascination with vampires. You read one novel, then you are addicted to that feeling so you go searching for more.

That said, I rarely read more than 6 books about the same characters. Rarely.

Robert B. Parker has gotten so bad with the Spenser novels that he’s almost literally written the same book twice. He had a recent book where Spenser gets shot, faces a long grueling rehab, doubts himself, gets lots of support from his loved ones, and then returns to save the day. A couple years later, his annual Spenser novel was about Hawk getting shot, facing a long grueling…

People like that need to just stop. Write something else.

But I do agree – there are other authors that start to seem predictable, and I drop them flat, even if I liked the first couple of books. I don’t know the answer, but I’ve enjoyed the discussion…

Gillian: I see series as a different thing. It’s not the same book over and over. It’s like a serialised uber book. Or something. I guess Chandler falls into that category. Though Heyer doesn’t. And yet I don’t really think of Chandlers book as series.

Hmmm, I think I need to sit down and think it through.

With other series writers, I will devour the whole serious voraciously if I like the opening book AND there is something else to enjoy besides just the basic story that is being repeated. If there isn’t something like humour, turn of phrase etc to latch onto I will tire after a few books.

Having said that, I really like the idea of a long series. It’s great to know that there are a whole load of books out there like the one I’ve just enjoyed. The converse of this is that I am often reluctant to pick up a different type of book by an author whose series I have been enjoying. For example, I loved the Lois McMaster Bujold Vorkosigan series deeply. But then, I was quite resistant for a long time to moving onto the Chalionverse books. Once I did though, I loved these books just as much. After another pause I am now just starting on her latest romance / fantasy series and am, again, liking it just as much. But she is a writer who has a lot going on in her work and even in her long Vorkosiverse series told many different stories.

Sorry to have gone on a bit.

I’ve started to realize, though, that it’s not necessarily about reading the same book by an author I crave, but getting the same experience (even if their books are very different). Diana’s the one to point out that distinction and I think it makes sense.

It’s a good question you ask, one I think about myself fairly regularly. Partly I think it comes down to whether the author is doing that one thing well (for “well” you can substitute “in a way I enjoy”), and seems to be doing it thoughtfully and with pleasure, or whether s/he seems to be bored and just phoning it in. But that isn’t the whole answer. The question of whether the one thing the author does is a thing I particularly like is also important but, again, is not the whole issue.

Sometimes for me an author’s sameness is very comforting; sometimes it’s immediately irritating, and I quit that author and don’t go back. And sometimes I really enjoy it for a while and then get bored. (Maybe I stay interested for a bout the same number of books as the author did? Hmmm…)

As you say about Heyer and Chandler, there are some authors who do several genres, of which I adore one and detest, or refuse to even try, the others. Others of my favourite authors have written in half a dozen genres and I love them all…

Robin: I think you’re prolly right. Though I really really really can’t see what’s different about the author in question’s books. In fact the whole thing is bugging me so much I’m wondering if I should soldier on and read all of them just to see if there are variations that emerge when you’ve read all of them.

Jessica: See my answer to Gina.

Repetition with variation is the basis for music, and so while all of Nickleback’s songs sound, to me, as if someone put the same three chords together over and over in the most musically uninteresting way possible, other people like them. On the other hand, I can listen to and play classical music that people find boring and see subtle nuances in it.