It comes with no warning, no advertisment, nothing. You just turn your head, and there it is. You see it every day hence. It watches you through its black, white, red eyes. You pass it by, you stand in front of it. You don't have the courage yet to pick it up because you know, you know, you can never put it down again.
Your hand has the will you lack. It's tough, hard on the touch. You bring it closer, its aroma engulfs you, your eyes close and you're only a step away from leaving. Its black leaves beckon you ever closer. You open it.
Music, crystal, magical pours out of the pages. A ship made from books comes and sweeps you away from the ordinary, into the sea of magic that is the night circus.
Poppet takes you by the hand, Widget is offering you story-bottles, Celia laughs at your illusion, Marco ever silent in the background. You stroll around the many paths of the black and white circus, searching for some red scarf and you know, you know, you're home at last.
You hold the Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern.