I don't recommend a TON of books to Josh, because he's WICKED picky, and he knows what he likes and he's perfectly capable of finding his own stuff. (Lately he's been barreling through Christopher Fowler and Caro Ramsay.)
But I do have a pretty good feel for what he likes, so when I read something that I think will be a good fit, OBVIOUSLY, I tell him. (Worldbuilding is key—while I'm all about the characterization and relationships, he usually tends more towards the intricacies of How Things Work. Two cases in point: He preferred the whaling chapters to the story chapters in Moby Dick, and he preferred the Building of the World's Fair stuff to the Serial Killer stuff in Devil in the White City.)
Twenty or so pages in, and he turned to me and was like, "Hey, this is GOOD."
(WHY IS HE ALWAYS SO SURPRISED? I MEAN, COME ON. THIS IS WHAT I DO.)
Anyway, he's had his nose in it for the last week, and last night—IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT—we had this exchange:
Me: *sits bolt upright in bed* *looks around wildly* *asks unintelligible question*
Josh: *half asleep* It's probably Lemon.
Oh, I finished that book.
Me: Just now? But you went to bed when I did.
Josh: But I couldn't sleep because I wanted to finish it. So I got up.
Is there going to be a sequel?
Me: Yeah, it's coming out soon. End of next month, I think.
Josh. Huh. Yeah, I'll read that. *promptly falls asleep*
Me: *awake for another twenty minutes, running mental victory laps*
I KNOW THAT DOESN'T SOUND LIKE GUSHING, BUT I KNOW HIM, AND THAT'S BASICALLY HIS VERSION OF A MUPPET FLAIL.