Long ago I was an avid fantasy-novel reader, and at that time Jim St. Onge (one of my longest-running and closest friends) recommended that I read "Pawn of Prophecy" by David Eddings. On a bookshelf in my hostel I noticed a copy available for book-exchange, and having finished my previous book (the terribly-disappointing "9/11" by Noam Chomsky), I made the switch. For days after that decision, my life was ruined due to my obsession with that book and the rest in its series. Now, it's really not that good of a book. But it was entertaining and gripping enough to trigger my "obsess until completion" gene, which makes virtually all other activity of zero interest until satisfied. Of course, the book is out of print, as is the rest of the series, so I could be found constantly scouring the library and used-bookstores for old copies as I clawed my way through the six-book series (there are more, but that's where I could finally break my addiction). The last three books I actually found at a new book store (ie, store for new books) for a ridiculous price which, after some contemplation, I grudgingly accepted just to end the pain.
Anyway, though more science-fiction than fantasy, I instead recommend "Ender's Game" by Orson Scott Card, the central deception of which I swallowed hook, line, and sinker. Yes, I know, I'm ashamed that I hadn't read it before. But I have now and count it as one my new favorite books. Its sequel, however, I don't recommend as I found it too contrived and shallow. Indeed, the "sequel" was actually what he sat down to write first, and "Ender's Game" kinda came up just to lay the groundwork for the second. Which is strange, as the sequel was the whole point but kinda lame, and the first was just an offshoot but incredible.
Oh, I mention this story because I read half of one of the books in one sitting on a bench in this park, despite the chill wind.