Don’t you love when you pick up a book and it’s *chef’s kiss* golden? The characters, the story, the tone. It’s everything. And then you get to the end and you find out…oh my god, there’s a SEQUEL? So you, of course, pick it up immediately, and it’s just…meh. It’s not the same. It’s hardly what you’d hoped for, and it doesn’t bring you the same kind of joy the first one sparked in you. It’s disappointing to say the least. And part of the blame belongs on you. You have your expectations on the moon, and you’re still riding the high the first one gave you. It’s not fully…