in which i finally talk about books.

Perhaps I should talk about books? I think the very fact that I posted about my laptop festering in cat poop is further proof of the non-existence of my brain these past few days. This has been the first cold I've ever had to escalate into an ear infection. Yes, including childhood. It's quite bizarre (now that it's no longer SO painful). Thanks to these ear drops, everything has two (annoyingly dissonant) pitches. It's fascinating to hear myself talk (ha!), but it's HORRIBLE for listening to music. Eek. [And here is where I pause to realize that, much like the cat poop, you guys probably don't actually want to know about this.]

Which is why I've decided to talk about books today. Ahem. So, back in the day (also known as: this past winter), I was all about reading lots of books and blogging about them. This was before I had really come to terms with wanting to blog about writing. It was also before the Hunger Games casting, before I started putting myself out there and actually making blogger friends (hi, friends!), and before I was even close to finishing that good ol' rough draft of yore. Thus, I have not blogged about my reading list in a long time.

Okay, so I talked about worlds on May 16. That sort-of counts. Yay me. Other than that, all I remember posting about is HOWL'S MOVING CASTLE. MmmMmmMmm. So, here are the books I've encounter since Howl (some which I've already mentioned, so bear with me), and a few sentences about them:

FALLEN by Lauren Kate. Not my cup of tea. The setting was the best part. There were definite merits, and I don't like to book-bash, knowing how hard it is to put everything together, but... sigh. Just... not my cup of tea. And that's okay! If the whole brooding fallen angel thing *is* your cup of tea, by all means. Don't let me stop you.

WITHER by Lauren DeStefano. Much more my cup of tea. This book is weird and twisted, dystopian without feeling dystopian, gothic romance without the romance you would expect. Not perfect (sort of lacking in the climax department), but heck, who's perfect? I really enjoyed this book. Thoroughly creepy.

THE TRUTH ABOUT UNICORNS by Bonnie Jones Reynolds. The only non-YA book I've read in a long time. Creepy and long and... kind of grown-up in parts, if you catch my drift, but ultimately a great read. But be warned... it's really weird.

RED GLOVE by Holly Black. Very good. I'm not really on the whole Better-than-White-Cat Bandwagon, but I did enjoy it. Middle books are hard, I'm told, but this one was brilliant. I will say, I was a teensy let down by some things, but not enough to boot this book out of favorite standings. The WORST part about this book is its cover, which makes absolutely no sense once you've read it. What were they thinking?

ORCHARDS by Holly Thompson. I wanted to read this book because of two things: it's written in verse, and it's set in Japan. Anyone read OUT OF THE DUST by Karen Hesse? I adore that book, and it was the first novel in verse I ever read. ORCHARDS was much simpler; it was almost an embarrassingly quick read. But there's lots of good stuff inside, about family, dealing with suicide, coming to terms with your heritage. What's not to appreciate?

THE CHAOS WALKING TRILOGY by Patrick Ness. Shoo. These books are amazing, exhausting, challenging. I was dazed by the end of it all. I still am. Can't find any more words. Still recovering.

PARANORMALCY by Kiersten White. I know. What took me so long, right? Meh, just me being stupid. I was pleasantly surprised, though. I loved Evie more than I thought I would. I loved her world. I even (gasp) loved Reth. Okay, not love loved, but I thought his character was great. All the Fey. Horrifying and totally cool. Lend was okay. Blasphemy! (Just kidding, I loved him, too... I guess.)

DIVERGENT by Veronica Roth. Ah. Now, this is a book I could talk about for days. Perhaps that's because it's so fresh on my mind. I really loved these characters. The factions are brilliant and scary. I would so have ended up in Candor, with my mouth. Or Amity. Or maybe Dauntless, were I insane. If you know much about me, you know that I tend to be picky with romance, and this is one that I really liked. The plot was stellar. Lots of twisting, but never beyond the reaches of what worked for the story. I loved Tris. I celebrated with her, grieved with her. Mm. Great stuff. Do read this one, if you haven't.



Okie dokie. Those are the books I've read since April. I'm halfway to my goal of 60, and, appropriately, just over halfway through the year (is that hard to believe or what?) (the year, not my reading progress). Tune in when I am no longer sick for something more interesting. Yippee!

a quick rant about worlds.

I see a lot of stuff out there about how a believable world makes the reader want to exist inside it. But is that really the case? Personally, I'm tempted to say, "no." A believable world is one that ties the story together, heck, maybe even makes the story possible. If a world is weak, the story will suffer, and vice versa. Thus, if the story is terrifying (due to the intrinsic nature of its location), I don't think that world--no matter how well-crafted--would offer much to my health and happiness. Here's a quick look into some books I've read recently that had rich, poignant worlds, in which I would never want to find myself.

Wither, by Lauren DeStefano. Oh, how I believed that world. I thought I wouldn't at first, but as the story went on, I really saw it take shape. Linden's mansion became one of the realest places I've ever read about. But would I want to live there? Not in a million years, at that cost.


White Cat and Red Glove by Holly Black. I mean, it's brilliant, right? You live in fear of everyone, always thinking, Are they? Is she? Which kind is he? Perfectly chilling and compelling for the books. But in real life? I would never want to live in that kind of uncertainty, or in a reality where a naked hand is not only a possible weapon, but also as private as an entire naked body. It makes me sad, which I think is part of the point.


The Knife of Never Letting Go by Patrick Ness. Um, yeah. This book is super-fresh on my mind, having just burned through the last half of it yesterday, and here's what  have to say. New World is simply horrifying. No place is safe, no place is entirely all-there, and home isn't even an option. Again, perfect for the story, and very well-written, but, oh my gosh. In a few centuries, when people start leaving Earth for other plants, JUST DON'T GO, OKAY?

And, hello, because there's no way I could leave this one out: does anyone really want to live in the world of The Hunger Games? Um, no. If you do, I think you missed the point, there.

So, what really makes a believable world? I don't think it's just a map and a list of clever, comforting foods (although I do like both of those). A real, honest world, is a vehicle. If the story's not pretty, the reality in which it exists probably won't be much fun, either. Of course, there are exceptions. For instance, Narnia. We're supposed to want to live in Narnia. Narnia, ultimately, is a place of joy and honor and growth and becoming the best version of yourself. Narnia is nothing like Panem, which tears down and destroys and murders. So, I'm not saying there aren't any well-thought-out, strongly written worlds in which I would like to find myself. There certainly are. I'm just getting it out there that, although I want to live in Narnia, but would rather get the ever-loving heck away from Panem, doesn't mean that both aren't brilliantly executed. You know?

Getting down off the soap box, now. Everybody having a nice Monday?