Hooked

I started reading Orhan Pamuk's Snow, translated by Maureen Freely, last night. I read a few pages and felt I was hooked. Yet I did not know whether it was merely the reputation of the book that hooked me, or the book itself. Then I read this sentence towards the end of chapter one:

After a lifetime in which every experience of love was touched by shame and suffering, the prospect of falling in love filled Ka with an intense, almost instinctive dread.

I was indeed hooked.