When the library sent me an email letting me know that Michael Tolliver Lives, the last book in the Tales of the City series, had arrived and was waiting for me, I dropped the two other books I was reading and immediately dove in.

The problem arose when I neared the book’s end. After this, there’s nothing else. And given that I felt myself tearing up at one point in the book, it’s safe to say that I’ve grown rather attached to Mouse, Brian, Madrigal and the rest. I didn’t want to have to say goodbye.

Here’s the problem with a series, of course. The beauty of it is that you can go back and relive moments with characters any time you want. But when you’ve begun to follow the characters’ lives – over the course of decades, as is the case with this – it’s strange to remember that a time comes when the words end and the lives continue only in your imagination.

I’m glad to have known these characters. I can’t wait to watch the miniseries. But I’m sad to have to let them go.