Victor treats reading like eating. He will try anything once, but if it tastes bad, or makes him sick, he will avoid trying it again until his taste has evolved. His eyes are as big as his stomach, and his appetite for literature leaves him as satisfied as a 16 oz. New York strip.
Like tobacco that has sat out for too long and has has become stale, so too becomes Victor's writing. With practice, however, he has learned to insert an orange peel into his pouch to revive the taste and texture; so too becomes Victor's writing.