Interlude - It's Been / 3 Months Since I Started This / Also Books That Didn't Quite Make The List

[The above should be sung, either within or without of thine own skull, to the tune of that Barenaked Ladies song.]

Thaaaaaat's right, Q1 is over! Let's take a look at the stats...

With 17 books down, our hero is officially...on pace for 62 books for the year and dreadfully behind.

Ah, failure. Hello, my good friend.

No, no; i's okay (she said to...herself? No-one? Everyone? anyways...) Although I do want to try my darndest for the big h-u-n-d-r-e-d, I'd say the bigger, more important goal is to gather and imbibe a more diverse bookshelf - and golly, I have most definitely already surpassed that goal. I mean, sure, there's still the heavy emphasis on sci-fi in my choices, ahem, but I read a memoir! I'm currently reading a self-help book. I'm growing, goddammit.

So, to recap, I'm sitting at 17 books, on pace for an abysmal 62, and still truckin' on.

Now, for what has turned out to be one of the more enjoyable parts of this exercise so far - a list of books I've tried and loathed so much that I had to not only abandon the, but also take to the keys - the computer keys, that is. If you...didn't get it...Anyways, I thoroughly enjoyed being disappointed by the following books and I hope you (yes you, who is somehow still with me in this blog thing - this is for you!) get the following out of the reviews:

1. You're spared the pain of having to suffer your own way through these travesties of alphabetical alignment i.e. the ol' "I suffer so you don't have to schtick';

2. You have read/decide to read them anyways, completely agree with me, we gush about our amazing, complimentary taste, and henceforth become book buddies.

3. You have read/decide to read them anyways, completely disagree with me, we have a lively debate which ends in either enemy or best friends status, and henceforth become book buddies.

Without further ado, I hereby dub this section:

The Q1 Nopes

The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

I tried with this book. I really, really did. I've had several friends recommend it to me over the years, and I was excited to finally get my hands and eyeballs on it. You know those books you hear about for years but have just never gotten into, maybe because of their popularity? (People who haven't seen Star Wars, I'm looking at you.) It was one of those things.

My thoughts a few chapters in: Don't love it. Neat idea, but the writing is easy-peasy YA mediocrity, and the characters are seeming miiightly flat. But, okay. A fair chance is a fair chance...

And then, so suddenly, the halfway point dawned.

And I officially threw in the towel. My initial thoughts held true: the concept is intriguing and different, but the execution just falls flat. The writing is...pompous? Can writing be pompous? There's probably a literary term for whatever Morgenstern was trying unsuccessfully to pull off, but in all my worldly knowledge I'm going to call it pompous. Maybe it just isn't my style - it obviously appeals to some group of people, if the abundance of positive reviews are to be given any stock, but it definitely isn't my cup of tea. It feels like Morgenstern is trying to sound all airy and Victorian-Gothic, but ultimately sacrificing character development and plot. To be fair to the writer, I really think it's hard to write about anything like the magic depicted in what I could get through. I imagine she was trying to write the magic as effervescent, seductive, intriguing, and awe-inspiring...unfortunately, when the reader is struggling to respect the writing that's trying to accomplish this tall take, the whole effect falls the fuck apart.

All in all, I wish this novel (or at least the half I read) had more bite, more MPH. The whole magic circus thing is strongly reminiscent of Something Wicked This Way Comes by the legendary Ray Bradbury, but Night Circus lacked the creep factor and missed the mark on intriguing mysticism. I hatehateHATE to abandon a book halfway, but I also refuse to spend time reading things I that make me angry for just existing.

BUH BYE.

The Queen of Blood by Sarah Beth Durst

This book gave me a strong Red Sister (see Book 1 post) vibe, but for all the wrong reasons. Not that I should have been exceptionally surprised; this book made it onto my list when I read about it on a review about Red Sister. But, nope, the idea sounded so cool I just haad to try it. It'll be all the good things about Red Sister, I told myself, but none of the boring girls-school bullshit where the main characters isn't as good as some other badass girl until, lo and behold, the protag has crazy unseen powers. WHO COULD HAVE PREDICTED THAT.

Me. Me predicted that.

Listen, writers. (In my head, I see writers, young and old, all over the world turning their heads and pricking their ears as if listening to a distant sound. Think meerkats.) Enough with the "actually the protag was the chosen one, haha, fool'd ya!" storylines. Just, enough. The story is being told by the protagonist's POV for a reason, and it's probably not to show how great of a sidekick they are - although I would 100 percent read that - so just stahp. Or execute it well enough to be acceptable. That is all.

LATER ALLIGATOR.

Skin Hunger by Eli Lang

So I definitely thought this was a different book called Skin Hunger and, let me tell you, when it opened to a scene with a rockstar lady-drummer freaking out on an airplace and not some cool sci-fi/fantasy about a female badass, I was a little, ahh, confused. But, nimble young thing that I am, I reoriented myself and forged ahead.

Alas, it was not meant to be. So. Much. Inner. Dialogue. Like, walls of it. I think I might have even vocalized a disgusted sigh when I finally gave up. I love character musings as a story device, I really do (outraged whisper: "if it is done WELL"), but the content has to actually be, you know, engaging for that to work.

Sadly, it was not to be. Sooo much internal dialogue, to the point where I had to say fuck you, I give UP. Don't get me wrong, I love character musings as much as the next person, but they have to be engaging to actually work. The story might have been interesting, but I was too exhausted wrestling around the prose to even get a glimpse of it. Way too much effort. Again, I refuse to spend my precious reading time on crap.

YOU CUT.

. . .

I'd like to dedicate this post to all our fallen comrades/children, the underdeveloped, 1-dimensional characters that have undergone such woe at their writers' neglectful hand. May they find dimension and storylines one day, wherever they are.