I would go hungry for a day in order to afford in hardcover the next Aubrey/Maturin novel from Patrick O'Brian, if and when it ever comes out. I'd miss dinner for William Boyd, and one for Joanna Russ. I'd do without lunch for Barbara Kingsolver and Dick Francis and Pat Califia's essays. I'd give up an evening in the pub to read a new novel by Elizabeth Lynn if and when that ever happens, and if Theodore Sturgeon and Mary Renault were still alive, I'd happily do without a seven-course banquet just to read whatever they'd write down.
And food is very important to me.
I was of course talking about the books Dick Francis wrote before his wife died; it got progressively worse after that. Ditto Patrick O'Brian, now I come to think of it--though sadly he himself is now dead too. Sigh. Then Barbara Kingsolver started doing too-close-to-inspirational-fiction-for-my-taste novels. Double sigh. But Elizabeth Lynn did start publishing again--yay!