I am currently re-reading Anne Rices "Queen of the Damned", a friend gave me a hardback copy as a "Halloween" present a few years back since she knew I loved the book so much - as did she (I read it in paperback first) she even had it signed by Rice at a book signing, wanted to go but I had to work. Opened it, flipped through it for a few years just enjoying the feel of it, maybe I was enjoying as much my friends sentiments and reason for giving it to me as much as the book itself, maybe they melded together into one sensuous feeling, don't know but I enjoyed and still enjoy just having it around, in a sense it's like having her around since she physically isn't.
Now I finally started to actually read it, I visit her grave often.