You have probably never stood on a cold, gray rampart staring at a dust horizon. You have probably never worn the uniform of a frontier garrison. And yet, if you read Dino Buzzati’s 1940 masterpiece, Il deserto dei tartari (The Tartar Steppe), you will feel an uncomfortable, intimate chill. Because Buzzati isn’t really writing about a military fort. He is writing about your life.

Buzzati gives us one of the most cruel, beautiful ironies in literature. After decades of waiting, the Tartars finally appear. The great battle is coming. But Drogo is no longer young. He is sick. He is sent away from the fort just as his life’s purpose arrives.

Drogo watches his youth evaporate in the dust. He watches his friends grow old and leave. He watches the walls crumble. And yet, he cannot leave. Because leaving would mean admitting that the wait was for nothing.

If you pick up this book, you will recognize yourself in Drogo. You will look at the "desert" in your own life—the procrastination, the safe stagnation, the fear of choosing—and you will feel a jolt of terror.

And that, dear reader, is the trap.

We all have our personal Fort Bastiani. It is the job we took “just for a year.” It is the relationship we are “not quite ready to leave.” It is the dream we put off until “next month.” We convince ourselves that the great battle—the promotion, the novel, the move, the love—is just beyond the next dune. Just one more shift. Just one more season.