I am absolutely in love with the library these days. (Even though my favourite branch is closed for renovations. Even though my new favourite branch is being renovated as well, and parking is all but impossible in the area. I can't even really be annoyed, I just sing a little song as I walk however long it takes to get from where I had to put my car to the library itself: "Oh, don't give me a parking ticket, no tickets please, that would really suck, tra-la.") Which isn't to say that I didn't enjoy the library before, it's just that my enjoyment was more from the library concept than any real experience. Now that I have at least two TTC-related hours to fill each work day, and usually most of my hour's lunch and my breaks as well, I am reading and reading and reading. And the creative part of my brain is flickering and blinking and turning on, and all these lovely story ideas are starting to bubble up ...
Read
The Speed of Dark a few days ago. It was ... hmm. I was expecting more from it stylistically, I think. I was expecting one thing and I got another, so while I was reading I kept having to tell myself not to judge the book on what I thought it was going to be but rather on what it was. Even if I liked my concept better. It was a good book, I think, and I read it with interest throughout, and yet ... I'm not sure. On one hand it felt almost too self-aware, the tone was directed so strongly AT the reader that it was actually a wee bit confusing. I mean, if the main character is directly talking to me, the reader, I sort of want to know how and why. And if he's not and it just seems that way? It's odd.
I don't want to say too much about the actual ending (though I will say I thought it rushed, at best), only that I am slightly frustrated that it cut away where it did. To me, the most interesting thing can often be what happens afterwards. You've made your decision: now what? You've saved the world, rescued the prince, and even kept the little dog from coming to any harm: now what? Sometimes the story's not only in coming to a decision, or the struggles to meet the goal, but in dealing with the aftermath as well. (Course, I'm one to talk. Lord only knows how many stories I have that end right at--or a few seconds after--The Big Decision. Or the end of the world. Or whatever.)
And then I read Robin McKinley's
Sunshine, which I ended up loving in that pure "this story makes me happy" sort of way. Don't know why--I'm not usually a vampire story kind of gal, but there it is. The first 50 pages or so were pretty rough, but after that it was all good. Have to buy it in paperback.
Also in the "this story makes me happy" category: Sarah lent me Meg Cabot's
The Princess Diaries, which is surprisingly funny and honest for a little tale about a clumsy princess in New York. And now I'm reading Holly Black's
Tithe. It seems I had to hit my twenties before I started reading and enjoying YA books; I've got a lot to catch up on, too. (Most of the books I considered for my YA fantasy project are now calling to me. "Order us from the library," they say. "We'll be there in just a few days. Maybe a week, or a little bit longer if there's a waiting list." Quite the siren song.)
