Book twenty-one: Mouth to Mouth

Mouth to Mouth* (2005)
Erin McCarthy

Rating: 2.75/5

I think this is one of the best books I have read by her.

I really liked it – the characters were likable (I’m obsessed with that, aren’t I?), the dialogue was good, it was funny, and it was slightly original.

The main character being deaf added a really good dimension to what otherwise could have been a run of the mill romance. And I think McCarthy makes good use of the secondary characters here.

The mystery/crime element was also well done. It actually had a surprising twist at the end.

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* Finished reading: Saturday, 24/3

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Book twenty: What the Lady Wants

What the Lady Wants* (1994)
Jennifer Crusie

Rating: 3.5/5

Ahh, Jennifer Crusie... need I say more?

This is an older book of Crusie’s – I think her third published – and its surprising how much her style had already developed. You can just tell by reading it that she wrote it. Stuff that would probably be boring when written by someone else is intriguing and witty.

This is one of her mystery/crime type books**. It’s much shorter than her later books – or maybe it just seemed that way because the book (and the font) were so tiny.

As usual, the characters were highly developed. They really do seem like people. Not only do they have their own likes and dislikes, they even have there own quirks. And as always for Crusie, their own dogs.

One of the things I like most about her books is how she develops the characters motivation without hitting you over the head with it.

I really like her books. I just wish she would write faster. But never mind, because there are a few of her books I haven’t read yet. They just aren’t published in Australia. But isn’t that what the Internet’s for?

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* Finished reading Friday, 23/3

** I just realised I read three mystery/crime/romance books in a row. Why do I get stuck in these themes?

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Book nineteen: The Bermudez Triangle

The Bermudez Triangle* (2004)
Maureen Johnson

Rating: 3.5/5

Hmm. I am feeling conflicted about this book. I guess that is fitting giving how the characters feel.

It was funny, well written and original. I just didn’t like two of the three main characters very much. I don’t know. Part of it was that I could see the train wreck from the start and just spent most of the book cringing. It was like a car wreck that you don’t really want to see, but can’t manage to look away from.

Another part was that they were so selfish and inconsiderate. Don’t get me wrong, it is necessary to have characters like this in books – we have them in life, it would be unrealistic not to have them going on their merry ways in books. Its just I found it very hard to care about them.

I mean, I did care about what was happening, because I really liked two of the other characters (who, incidentally, are the ones whose feelings get stomped on by the other two). I just didn’t think there was enough character development for the other two. I didn’t really believe at the end, that they wouldn’t do the same thing over again.

I guess I just didn’t like some parts of the ending.

I want realism, but I also want the people I like to be happy. And I guess in a way they were, just not in the way they wanted to be originally. And I’m not saying that one of the relationships should have continued, I just thought the other was weird. Like, to make it different Johnston didn’t go for the requisite ending, but then by doing that, the character was committing the same thing they’d spent half the book bemoaning.

See? Conflicted.

It’s still worth reading.

It’s still worth reading. If only** for the fact that it deals with issues that I have never seen addressed in a YA book. Actually, I don't think I've ever seen in done so well in any book. Maybe I should stop complaining about the fact that the characters were self centred and feel a bit more compassionate myself for what they were going through. I can't imagine how difficult it must be to deal with that. I mean, I had trouble enough as it was.

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* Finished Thursday, 22/3

** Well, not really “if only,” but more like another reason why it really is a good book. Despite my conflicts with it.

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Book eighteen: Wanting Something More

Wanting Something More* (2005)
Kathy Love

Rating: 2.5/5

And this makes three.

This was good as well.

Kathy Love is very good at writing likeable characters. I don’t know why – but annoying, whiny people are much too common in contemporary romance.

I actually think that of the three, this one was the most suspenseful. I guess because there was the whole mystery, who attacked him, element.

Hmm, you can tell I read these awhile ago, eh? I can’t think of anything else to ramble on about, except to say that I would read more by this author. Unfortunately, I think now I will have to wait for something else to be published.

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* Read on Wednesday, 21/3.

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Book seventeen: Wanting What You Get

Wanting What You Get* (2004)
Kathy Love

Rating: 2.5/5

This one was better than the first.

I liked the main characters better and though that the internal dialogue wasn’t as repetitive.

Kathy Love does have a habit, though, of having things happen right at the end and with hardly any fan-fair. I just thought that the beginning of this – while not overly slow – could have been condensed and more focus placed on the resolution.

But I always think that.

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* Read on Wednesday, 21/3.

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Book sixteen: Getting What You Want

Getting What You Want* (2004)
Kathy Love

Rating: 2.25/5

This book was okay.

Two things annoyed me about it. And if you count the fact that it was printed in little teeny-tiny font, there were actually three.

The first was the repetitiveness of the internal dialogue. The two main characters – who were obviously the romantic leads, given this was a contemporary** romance – had a lot of self doubt going on. So much self doubt in fact, that neither of them felt they were good enough for the other. They had some fairly convincing reasons as to why they felt this way – I just wish I didn’t have to read about them. Over and over again. Sure, it is a mistake to have character acting under motivations, or assumptions, that are not clearly explained to the author. But after the first two or three times, the reader’s got it. Keep saying it over and over again and I’ll start to think the author either thinks I’m stupid, or was just couldn’t think of anything else to say to make up the word count.

The other thing that annoyed me was that a lot of stuff seemed to happen – the required dramatic, oh-no will this keep them apart stuff – but was resolved it all much too quickly. It was like the first series of 24 in a way – almost like she thought this was the only book she would ever write, so she threw in all the drama she could think of. Which was okay, I mean, a dramatic book is better than a boring one. I just think that she didn’t capitalise on the suspense enough. Often time’s things would happen – something that could have started plot enough to finish off the book – but this was resolved in the next chapter, or often times the next paragraph.

It just led to me thinking, “Why did that happen? What was the point?” It was kind of like that scene in Emma where you have to read about Emma and Harriet getting ready and going and calling on her old governess (whose name escapes me right now… umm, Mrs something… damn having no Internet connection), only to get to the door and find out she’s not home. And I was left sitting thinking I’d read all that for nothing***.

Anyway, back to this: it also made me very sceptical of each new plot point, because I wasn’t sure how long they were going to stick around.

Although it did make the ending very hard to predict. I mean, obviously they were going to end up together, but I wasn’t sure which obstacle they would have to overcome.

This is the first in a trilogy about three sisters – I think it is called The Stepp Sisters, or something. I found myself actually more intrigued by the sisters than by the main character in this one, so I think I will read the others soon.

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* Read on Tuesday, 20/3.

** I question the “contemporary”ness of this book though. This wasn’t really a bad thing. Just something I noticed.

It was the clothes, actually. It felt a bit early-nineties, rather than 2004. I’m not sure if she wrote it back then, or if it’s a Maine thing, or if its because I’m not in my thirties, but some things felt a bit dated. Although maybe people in their thirties do wear pearls. I’ve never noticed.

*** As a complete aside, this is probably why my novel by Austen is Persuasion. Every scene in that book is like a knife twisting in your chest. Not a word wasted.

Don’t get me wrong though, I would totally slap Captain Frederick given the chance.

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Book fifteen: The Key to the Golden Firebird

The Key to the Golden Firebird* (2004)
Maureen Johnson

Rating: 4/5

I loved this.

It was great: well written, funny, heartfelt and realistic.

I would give it the added recommendation that I read it one sitting – but that’s all I’ve been doing these last few days. Sitting around reading books. But I can predict that I would have read it this way anyways. Honest.

Johnson has a really terrific writing style and she is just as funny in print as she is in her blog. Which isn’t always the case. I read the books of a few authors for the first time after reading their blogs and was just disappointed. I guess it’s a case of my expectations being too high? I still read their blogs though, so I guess I do enjoy their writing still.

Usually when a book has more that on point-of-view, I get attached to one character more than the others, and that happened here. I liked reading about May the best, and she is sort of the central character, so I guess that makes sense.

I thought that Johnson handled the father’s death really well. The prologue really shows the difference between the carefree fun of the three sister’s playing a prank, then the shock of finding out that he had died.

Despite the huge issues being dealt with here – death of a parent, coming of age, oh-my-god does that boy like me? – I think that the story is very subtle. I’m not sure if that makes sense, but I really liked the fact that it was so interesting, without having to resort to being overly dramatic. This makes the whole story feel so realistic. I mean, the things that happened in the book, is stuff that happened to people I knew growing up, stuff that I experienced when people I loved died. The reactions are just exactly right.

[spoiler] I also liked the fact that Pete dated, and slept with, Nell. I know that sounds weird, after all he should have been pining after May the whole time like a good little hero, ha ha. Obviously, this was more realistic than that romance novel ideal. What teenage boy sits around pining when he could be sleeping with someone willing? Umm, none. [end of spoiler]

That’s really why I love YA – they are just so much more interesting and real than those in the adult market. It’s hard to go wrong with a YA title, which is really something you can’t say about the general popular fiction market.

Did I mention I loved this book?

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* Read on Tuesday, 20/3.

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Book fourteen: The Pregnancy Test

The Pregnancy Test* (2005)
Erin McCarthy

Rating: 2.25/5

This was fairly funny and entertaining.

I was surprised to realise that McCarthy’s first book wasn’t published until 2004, which means she’s done well in terms of sales these past few years. Actually, I just read on her website that she sold her first book to Kensington Brava through a website contest (Lori Foster's) in 2002 and has since sold twenty-four books. Crap. She has done very, very well. I wonder how many of these were already written? Hopefully a few. It would be disappointing to see a decline in quality due to overproduction.

I like the way she writes. She’s funny and very easy to read. Although I’m sometimes disappointed that she doesn’t push the boundaries a bit more.

That said, I thought this book had an aright premise. It was slightly different and the characters were likable. Actually, it has some of the same characters as one of her more recent novels I’d read previously – You Don’t Know Jack – but I think this was better. Seemingly less formulaic than that effort.

Although, to be honest I could have done without the dead wife here. I think McCarthy may have taken the easy out with that. I suppose it is a realistic motivation for the character, but I think the way she developed this was lazy. [spoiler] Its like she couldn’t be bothered to work through him being okay with the death of his wife – you know, I’m ready to love again, dramatic sigh – so instead she made him come to the realisation that his wife wasn’t really all that great. But its okay, this view was supported by the other characters who knew her, including her parents (huh?), so it must be true! [end spoiler]

The other problem I had with this book is the same one I’ve had with 99 per cent of the romance novels I have read. I never really, truly believe that they are in love. Or that they will still be in this ‘love’ in a month’s time. I don’t know if I’m too pessimistic for it all, but I don’t think you can really fall in love with someone in a few days. Or even a week. Sorry.

But I guess I do manage to suspend my disbelief and just go with it, or I wouldn’t keep reading them. And I can’t blame this book for a problem with the whole genre.

I do wonder if someone did a study of the propensity for certain things in romance novels, what they would come up with. Are there certain traits that are always present in the hero? The heroine? The situation? And are these things what the readers want in real life, or are they what we expect in a novel? What’s the interaction between the two, which is effecting the other more?

Take a trait from this book – the brooding, misunderstood hero (he’s a nice guy, underneath it all, you just have to look past his pain. No, really). Is this a prevalent character type because this is what the public want to believe in real life? Do we want to think that underneath every overbearing asshole we encounter, is a nice sensitive guy? Or do we just want to read about it?

And how much of a disconnect is there between what we read and what is actually going on in the big bad world?

I’ve just realised that having three days off work, proves how much working damages my brain. I’m starting to think this could be a good thing – after all, I’ve just used the words “propensity,” “disconnect,” and “prevalent character type” in the same post. And I wasn’t even joking.

Pretentious much?

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* Read on Monday, 19/3.

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Book thirteen: An Abundance of Katherines

An Abundance of Katherines* (2006)
John Green

Rating: 3/5

I really liked this book. It was equally funny and well written. What more could you ask for?

Green embodies the whole “oh crap, now what”ness of finishing high school very nicely in the protagonist, Colin, a child prodigy who has been dumped by his latest Katherine and now feels his life is over.

It somehow managed to be not too stereotypical coming of age, despite the format (somewhat traumatic event, road trip, uncanny destination, new set of people, finding oneself etc.). There was also not too much of a pause at the end for us to learn our lesson. I think it managed to have the whole underlying moral to the story, without swimming in sickly sweet sentiments.

It also avoided the overly-sombre ending. I’m not saying it’s all perfectly sorted, but I hate when books of the coming-of-age type go to the other extreme. I’m never sure if they are trying to be purposefully unconventional or just realistic. But really, sure, we know these people are only seventeen. We know that whatever it is they have just gone through isn’t going to be anywhere near the hardest thing they ever do (though here’s hoping), but why does that so often translate into a pessimistic ending?

Anyway, the relationship between the main character and his best friend is hilarious, and the way that they interacted seemed realistic. (Never having been a seventeen year old boy, I can’t say for sure). Obviously, there was enough swearing to keep me happy.

The trickiest thing about this book (and I can’t think of another way to describe it other than tricky) is how Green manages to weave Colin’s love of (or perhaps obsession with?) anagrams into the story. He’s perfectly captured a kind of stream of consciousness of Colin’s musing, were one idea turns into the next and somehow the whole thing works out as a narrative in the end. No idea how he managed that.

I’d be interested to read one of his other novels – he has at least one other published, I think it is called Looking for Alaska – to see how the voice differs there.

Wow, only two days off work and I’m sounding like an English lit undergrad. Great. At least I’m not analysing Brava Contemporary Romance’s tonight... let's save that for next time!

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* I read this on Monday, 19/3.

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Book twelve: When Good Things Happen to Bad Boys

When Good Things Happen to Bad Boys* (2006)
Lori Foster, Erin McCarthy, and HelenKay Dimon

Rating: 1/5

Meh.

That’s really all I have to say about this book.

This is one of those Brava Romance anthologies, I don’t know why I thought it would be good, I just thought that novella length would be all the concentration span I would have right now.

I tried to read the first story the night before I had my wisdom removed, but I just couldn’t get into it. I went back and finished reading it today, but I didn’t really grow on me at all. I’d never read anything by Lori Foster before, and I just have to say her characters were boring, or I don’t know, too stereotypical or something. And the age gap was gross. What 21 year old wants a 35 year old? I don’t care how mature and independent you tell me she is, its gross. And should probably be illegal.

The second story, by Erin McCarthy was actually okay. A little funny, not really much of a plot or anything, but it was only 80 pages or so. I actually read all of this one. Shocking.

The last story by HelenKay Dimon was confusing and annoying. Maybe I was just tired when I read it, but most of the time I couldn’t work out what was going on, or why the characters were saying or doing the things they were saying and doing. It just didn’t make sense. They were deeply annoying to me.

Okay, I admit it, I didn’t read all of it.

Bite me. (At least you can chew).

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* Finished on Sunday, 18/3.

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Book eleven: Fangs But No Fangs

Fangs But No Fangs* (2006)
Kathy Love

Rating: 2.5/5

I didn’t like this as much as I Only Have Fangs For You (the third book in the series). There was nothing really wrong with it – I just didn’t like the main character as much. They just weren’t as funny, I guess.

The whole “woe-is-me-I’m-a-bad-vampire” thing is hard to pull off with any real conviction. I guess Love didn’t do too badly here, I just found the main characters a bit boring. And did I mention not as funny?

Or maybe I’m just not in the mood to laugh. Did I mention it hurts to smile? Stupid teeth. Or I guess place where teeth used to be**.

The second half of the book was a bit of a yawn. Not that much actually happened. And I’ve found in this series that Love tends to fall into the old cliché of rushing the ending. Like all those romance novels where they confess their feelings on the last page, and the last line is their first kiss.

Boring.

I want to know what happens after that. What about all the roadblocks that have been put in front of them for the last 200 plus pages? How was all that drama resolved?

This isn’t that bad, I just found a few things were rushed in the end, that were also rushed in the end of the first book. It was less so in the third for obvious reasons. Better not ruin the ending.

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* I actually finished reading this on the Saturday, 17/3.

** You know what’s worse than having to have surgery? Having to get up while it’s still dark to go to the hospital for said surgery.

The day of the removal of my wisdom dawned while I was already up and getting ready to go. The strangest thing about the whole experience was who un-freaked out I was.

I was extremely panicky about the whole thing until about 11.30 the night before. Its like some kind of switch flicked in my head that decided it would just be easier if I didn’t care about it. It was like being in shock. I knew that I was scared, that I was worried, that I really didn’t want to do it. I just didn’t feel anything about it.

Off I traipsed to the hospital. By the time we arrived the sun was actually up. Which was nice.

I had never been to a hospital for any other purpose than visiting someone, so the whole experience of walking up to the reception counter thing and it being my name on forms was extremely weird.

Apparently I had messed up my consent form and hadn’t agreed to a few things. I was that out of it, I actually had to get the receptionist to tell me what my answers would be (Yes, I agree to a blood transfusion. Yes, the procedure had been explained to me by my doctor.) I just remember standing there, looking at the page and the whole thing being kind of blurry. I mean I could tell there were words on the page, I just couldn’t actually tell you what they meant. Kind of like hieroglyphs or something.

It was then time to head off to the day surgery section. I was lucky enough to be first on the list or whatever, so I didn’t have to wait around. Which was a very, very good thing. I am not good at waiting. Waiting for me just tends to lead to stressing.

They then showed me to the “Patient Interview Room.” I found it very amusing that all the rooms they take you to had nice names like this. Very official like. I then had my temperature and blood pressure taken, and was asked for the first of a million times what procedure I was having done. (Wisdom teeth. Four.)

Hospitals seem to have this whole military like organisation going on. The nurse that was checking me in or whatever the hell she was doing, had this whole system of doing everything. It all felt very efficient and the part of me that loves making a list found this extremely comforting.

I was then taken to the “Patient Receiving Room,” or something, where I had to use this special mouth wash, change into the gown thingy, and slather lanolin all over my mouth. The nurse then came back and put these vicious drops down my nose. Five minutes later I was still gagging on the fumes. I don’t think my sinuses have ever been that cleared out.

Then all these doctors and nurses traipsed through asking me questions (apparently you have to give your full name when they ask you your name, just your first and last will not do). I managed to keep it together rather well until the anaesthesiologist showed up. I somehow ended up sobbing “I don’t like needles!” and hoped that he would go away.

The weirdness thing was that they make you walk from the “Patient Receiving Room” or whatever it was called into the theatre. I remember standing in the door way of this big room with this bed in the middle surrounded by equipment and all these people milling about inside, and wondering if I ran down the hallway would they come after me.

Unfortunately, one of the nurses noticed me hovering there and dragged me towards the bed. I kept repeating my “I don’t like needles” spiel in the hope that someone would listen. They just slapped a blood pressure monitor on me. I used to hate getting that done, but I think I’m almost over it now.

Then they put one of those things that cut your circulation off. This one looked like a left over belt from some bodies tragic 80s wardrobe. Did someone in hospital equipment design really think that a swirl of fluoro colours would really make me feel better about the fact that it was cutting into my arm and freaking me out?

Suddenly, in some kind of pre-choreographed move, everyone in the room who had up until this stage been ignoring me, descended upon me. One guy was holding down my left arm, while the anaesthesiologist painted some kind of clear liquid on the back of my hand. It was cold and watery, and much to my disappointment, wasn’t numbing in any way. The anaesthesiologist nurse then started putting stuff on me. First, a pulse monitor on my finger, then without even pausing to ask she shoved her hand down the front of my gown and stuck the heart monitors on. I found it very funny later, that she asked before she put the pulse monitor on, but not that. Yeah, ‘cause touching my hand was more of an invasion of privacy.

My sister had her wisdom teeth taken out at the same hospital, and she had managed to get some kind of gas given to her to make her not care about her needle phobia before the needle was produced. No such luck for me.

“What do you do for a living?” the anaesthesiologist asked. Fuck, I thought, the last thing I want to talk about right now is work. I answered anyway. He kept rubbing whatever it was on the back of my hand and examining it like it was some kind of complicated puzzle. I guess he was looking for a vein.

Now, I have to admit I have a problem. Probably worse than the whole needle phobia. Whenever I get nervous, I can’t sit still. I guess you could say that I have a nervous wiggling habit. I guess this is a drawback when you are trying to stab someone with a needle in a particular spot. My bad.

Anyway, I managed to stay still (admittedly after some coaxing) and he slid the needle in. Honestly, it was the least painful injection I have ever had. But the icy pain of whatever they were pumping into me, is possibly the worst sensation I have ever experienced. It was while I had started up wiggling again to try and distract myself from this, that I realised the oral surgeon was now there.

“You have to keep still,” he reminded me.

“Tell me something,” I said, trying to stop wiggling.

“I thought we had already explained everything to you,” he said, sounding concerned.

“No,” I snapped. “Tell me a story.” I kept wiggling. “Distract me,” I demeaned.

“Oh,” he looked thoughtful. “Would you like to talk about politics?”
“No,” I whined.

“Oh, I thought Howard would put you to sleep.” Everyone in theatre laughing. Me looking very unimpressed.

“Once I had this patient,” he began dutifully, around this time I noticed the feeling in my hand had unfortunately spread, I tried to ignore this and concentrate on the story, “who had only ever had teeth extracted under general. She came into the surgery and I gave her the local anaesthesia. About twenty minutes later she asked me when she was going to go to sleep…”

“Hey, I feel sleepy,” I said as what he was saying made me realise the cold feeling had changed. “Am I supposed to feel sleepy?”

And that is all I remember until I woke up in recovery. The nurse was putting on an oxygen mask, and saying something to me. I woke up what must have been a little while later, and he was standing there again.

“What time is it?” I mumbled through all the cotton wool packed in my mouth.

“10.45”

“Can I go home now?” I asked, noticing that my head was wrapped in some kind of ice pack contraption. Very comfy.

“Not yet,” he said, smiling. “I just have to take your blood pressure twice more and then we’ll move you.”

I then realised that I didn’t so much mind the whole automated blood pressure thing. My new hatred was for the pulse thingy. How awful is it being able to hear your own pulse? It freaked me out well and truly. Especially the fact that the more I concentrated on it, the more it speed up and the more I freaked out.

Luckily, after 15 minutes the nice nurse came back and took it off. I then got moved over to the other side of the room, where I was told to rest until I could go home. They also took the blood pressure cuff off, which was very good news.

The weirdness thing is that I wasn’t tired. I think generally people are really sleepy after they come out, but I couldn’t get back to sleep. I’m not sure if it was because I was stuck on my back (I can never get to sleep that way) or if I didn’t want to go back to sleep in case they made me stay longer.

Thankfully they took all the stuff out of my mouth after about half an hour. This was good, because all the packing was causing a lot of pressure, which was pretty painful. After that, they took out the drip (which I had been carefully avoiding noticing) and I was allowed to get dressed.

Its all a bit of a blur really, but I remember another nurse coming and taking me back out into the main part. I got to walk again, which really goes against all those movie/t.v. clichés of having to use a wheelchair.

“Is someone coming for you?” asked the new nurse, who was leading me by the arm.

“Yes, my mum,” I mumbled. As we were passing by the waiting room I saw her, so I stopped and pointed, “there’s my mum,” I mumbled again. I think I may have been a bit dopy and out of it by this stage.

They took me back into the “Patient Interview Room” where I had to wait for a few minutes until the surgeon came and talked to me.

Apparently, it was more ‘extensive’ then they had first thought, but they were able to get all the teeth and roots and everything (which is a good thing, because I have since learned that they can decided which you are under that they will leave half of it there and come back later). He then very nicely gave me a medical certificate which means I don’t have to go to work for a week and one day.

I then kind of remember stumbling out to the car, and catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror behind the sun shade. My lips were covered in an attractive mix of lanolin and blood, with bits of cotton wool stuck to it for accent. My jaw was already swelling and I looked like I was about to pass out.

For the next few days I just laid around, occasionally taking pain killers, reading and rinsing my mouth out with antiseptic. I figured out a nifty way of laying in bed which meant I could lay on my side, while not having any contact between my jaw and the pillow. Unfortunately, this was quite painful for my poor neck, but it was the only way I could get to sleep for longer than an hour.

The first day after, I very much resembled on of those Plastic Surgery Gone Wrong stories: I had two black eyes, a swollen jaw and my bottom lip was about three times its normal size. I also had bruises along my hair line, my arm and back. I figure they must have dragged me up the bed while I was unconscious? Very strange.

Oh, and it hurts to smile because it pulls the stitches that I’m pretty sure are in my cheek. Great.

I am now very much sick of pureed everything, and am looking forward to being able to chew – and smile – again.

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Book Ten: Black Juice

Black Juice* (2004)
Margo Lanagan

Rating: 3.75/5

I started reading this on the plane** on the way home to get my wisdom teeth out. Mistake. There should be a warning on the first story: this may make you cry in public. It would be a community service.

Anyway, I usually don’t like short stories; I get too attached to the characters and feel ripped off that I don’t get to learn more about them. But somehow the stories in this collection avoid this by creating snapshots of different worlds that would actually be less perfect if they were longer.

I got to wondering while reading this book how much an author (or their editor, I guess) thinks about sequencing. Is a collection of stories, kind of like the idea of a concept album? Or is it like a really good mixed tape, where each song flows into the next?

I guess if this were a concept album, I would have to say that the common theme amongst all the stories was that they were all disturbing in their own way.

Although I liked some stories in the collection more than others – my favourites were the first two Singing My Sister Down and My Lord’s Man – I think they are all fascinating due to the way Lanagan manages to create whole worlds within a fifteen page story. It’s amazing. Some authors can’t manage that in a 100k book.

I would be very interested to read her other collections – White Time and Red Spikes – as well as her full length novels – The Best Thing and Touching the Earth Lightly – I have a feeling they will also be fascinating. She just has a wonderful writing style.

And that’s all I can think about to write. For some reason although I had my wisdom teeth removed my shoulders, neck and back are all bruised and achy too. They should be more gentle.

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* I actually finished reading this on the 17/3.

** I somehow managed to miss my flight. Typical that this would be the only time I have ever actually had a specific time I needed to be home by.

I rang for a taxi forty-five minutes before check-in closed, figuring I could make the twenty minute journey to the airport with plenty of time to spare and hopefully avoid sitting around the airport for hours waiting. (My flight home at Christmas was delayed by four hours, so I was a bit over the whole Sitting Around the Airport thing).

Ha! I should have been so lucky as to wait there for hours.

Usually when I call a taxi, by the time I lug my suitcase down four flights of stairs, it is either waiting there for me, or pulls up thirty seconds later.

After standing on the street waiting for fifteen minutes, I started to get worried. I now only had half an hour to get to the airport before they closed check-in.

I was worried if I wondered off in search of an alternative taxi, it would arrive as soon as I left. So, instead I tried to call the company to check on the booking. Eventually, after getting an engaged signal, then being on hold for ages, I got through.

Apparently they had called my home phone, and as no one had answered, they hadn’t responded to the job.

Umm, gee, thanks.

That has never happened before. I felt like kicking myself, or preferably someone from the taxi company. I just couldn’t help thinking that if I’d called from my stupid mobile none of this would have happened.

Anyway, the guy promised to send another one. Right away.

Yeah. I waited for a little while longer. I now only had twenty minutes before check in closed. Great.

“Hmmm,” I thought to myself, “maybe I should walk up to the main road and see if I can flag down a taxi that way. Don’t want to be late.”

Ha! Again!

Every person in Sydney seemed to have a taxi but me. And I was still worried that maybe my taxi I had booked would turn up. By this stage I was more than a little stressed. And that’s putting it mildly. Actually, I had been pretty dammed stressed all week. It was just one of those times where you want to stomp your foot and complain loudly that this was the absolutely last thing in the world you needed.

Actually, I think I might have done that. Twice.

At the same time check-in on my flight closed, I was standing in front of my building, on the phone with my poor mother trying not to cry. I will not reveal whether or not I was successful.

Just for fun, I tried calling the taxi company again. Just as I go through to an operator, a taxi pulled into my street. With its light on. About freaking time. I hailed it down, told the woman on the phone not to worry.

My poor mum called back to ask what was going on. The taxi driver overheard me tell her I’d finally gotten in a taxi, even though I’m not sure if it’s the one I booked and that I’ll probably miss my flight. He asked me what company I booked with and was all confused when I say his. Apparently no bookings have come up in my area in the last half hour.

Which means that the operator who told me so kindly that he’d send someone right away is a liar and a fraud. The taxi driver was all like, “don’t worry, you’ll make the 4.05.” I ended up wanting to smack him in the back of the head despite his niceness. Mostly because my flight was leaving at 3.55, and I was sure I’d already missed it.

Turned out I was right.

I arrived at the check-in counter. Attempted to calmly present my ID and mumble my destination.

“You must be on flight later tonight?” the assistant asked, confused. It did not help matters any that the assistant reminded me of my old boss. Things just kept on getting better.

“No, the 3.55,” I mumbled again, taking back my drivers licence, and holding it tight enough for the sharp edges to cut into my fingers, as though that would make any difference.

“You can’t be,” she replied, looking over the list of passengers or whatever it is they have on those pieces of paper that look like they were printed by the old IBM Compatible computer we used to have. “We had 34 booked and 34 checked in.” Now she gives me an almost accusing look, as if I’m trying to insinuate myself onto a flight I don’t have a ticket for. “Do you have your booking confirmation?”

You mean that piece of paper I used to print out religiously, but gave up on because no one had ever asked me for it? Was this like the fact that it was compulsory to answer that taxi’s Call on Arrival, even if you lived in an apartment building, and even though you’d never had to before?

“No,” I said instead. I really didn’t feel like arguing over when my flight was supposed to leave.

More paper shuffling. More nervous clutching of my driver’s licence by me. “Oh,” she said, relieved. “I see what’s happened. There was somebody on standby and because you didn’t turn up, they were given your seat.”

Gee, that’s a relief. I know I feel better now. “Oh,” I repeat back to her instead. “I waited fifty minutes for a taxi to show up.” I don’t know why I felt the need to explain, but I didn’t like the implication that I am some kind of hopeless person who can’t be bothered to show up for a flight on time. Even though, obviously, I am.

“Oh, bugger. I’ll just see if there are any seats left on the flight tonight.” Lots of typing. She gives me a sympathetic look. “Oh, I have some bad news. Unfortunately we don’t have any seats left. I can put you on standby, or perhaps you’d prefer a flight tomorrow morning?”

Couldn’t she just have coughed and said Computer Says No?

At this stage, I give up any pretence that I wasn’t trying not to cry and do the foot stamping thing again. Instead, like the three year old I am, I mumble, “I’m going to go call my mum.”

“Ok,” she says after I apologise again. “Just come back to me when you decide what you want to do.”

I call my mum, who being a mum has a solution. So I go back over the counter, wait while she finishes with the next person, and ask if there are any seats on the 4.30 flight to the next town over.

After a call to reservations in which I am told that my Internet purchased ticket has been forfeited by my failure to check in, I have to purchase another ticket from scratch, but thankfully get a seat on the flight.

The assistant suggests that I should try and get the taxi company to pay for the new ticket seeing as they didn’t show up. I can’t really see that happened as I couldn’t even get them to come take me to the airport.

Before I walk away, she adds “oh, I should warn you the plane is rather small. Only one row of seats on each side.” Okay. Fun.

To add insult to injury, the plane is held up waiting for someone (I presume an already checked in passenger, aren’t they special) to get on the bus. When they do arrive they are clutching a McFlurry. I hope they were embarrassed.

Turns out the flight was the funniest I have ever been on. There was no air hostess, and the First Officer asked us on the bus if we needed a taxi when we got there, then distributed the snacks before take off. The highlight of the flight was definitely when the poor guy had to do the safety demonstration. He was about six foot two, and could barely even stand up straight.

Anyway, all in all the most stressful airport getting-to experience ever. The thing that pissed me off most about the whole thing are the hours I have wasted in the past waiting for the airline to be ready to take off. One memorable hour because they couldn’t find the air hostess. How the hell do you lose a person? It’s not like their a hammer or something. Not that you should have hammers near planes.

Whatever.

At least I got here. And in the future I will worry less about thinking I’ve forgotten to pack something and more about whether or not my taxi’s going to show.

I will also remember that whole taxi change over thing.

Damn stupid if you ask me.

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Book nine: A Hunger Like No Other

A Hunger Like No Other
Kresley Cole

Rating: 2.75/5
[re-reading]

I don’t know what it is about deadlines at work and impending wisdom teeth removal, but for some reason its been all about the vampires lately. Well, I guess this one is only a quarter vampire. Whatever.

Good news is I finished the last document that is due while I'm away today! Yay! Bad news is I still have to get my stupid wisdom teeth out on Friday.

I don’t like pain. I don’t like needles. I don’t like not being able to eat solid food.

Something tells me this isn't going to go well.

On the upside, I don’t have to go to work for a week and I have bought plenty of books to comfort me. (Combined with my birthday I had a very good excuse for excessive Amazon purchases.)

Anyway, back to this book: it is the first in a series (shocking, I know). The series is called Immortals after Dark*, the third instalment of which, Wicked Deeds on a Winter’s Night, is to be published in November of this year.

The one thing I don’t get about this series is the overly crappy covers** and titles. I mean, come on, even a cute tie-in is better than this. Who exactly does the publisher think they are appealing to? I saw this book at least a dozen times and didn’t feel compelled to even pick it up to read the back until someone recommended it.

So, yeah. Bottom line: very bad marketing, alright book.

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* Although, I got that from the authors website. It isn’t indicated anywhere on the book. It might be on the second, but I couldn’t be bothered to go upstairs and check.

* For example, in this one, he’s not even the freaking vampire. She is.

I know it’s unlikely that people who design the cover even read the blurb, let alone the book. But come on, that’s pretty basic, right? He = werewolf. She = part vampire thing. Easy.

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Book eight: Lover Revealed

Lover Revealed (2007)
J.R. Ward

Rating: 4/5

I will admit that I did a happy dance in the bookshop when I saw that they had this on Friday. Luckily no one who does not already know I’m crazy witnessed this. Hopefully they don’t have security cameras in that section… Anyway, yay for the import book store!

One of the things I like most about this series is also one of the things that annoys me most about it: there are a lot of storylines going on at once. This means, that as in the case of this instalment, something that started in book one, will be continued on in book four.

This also means that there’s a lot of head hopping between the characters in the book. I think that this sometimes distracts from the main story line, but that’s probably just because I’m impatient, and when there’s a cliff hanger at the end of one chapter, and the beginning of the next switches to another person/storyline, I just get annoyed and want to go back to the other person.

But this also happens to me if I’m reading a book that has stuff from two people’s points of view – you know two separate story’s that intercepts somehow. I always end up liking one character more and skimming the other.

I guess that’s what happens here too – the first time I read them, I skim the stuff about the bad guys and John and whoever, and skip to the parts about the main characters being focused on in the book. When I reread them I then read the whole thing.

I think I’m just impatient. If this whole series was finished and published (and I knew what was going to happen to everyone), I would definitely say this was its main strength. It’s actually a series, not just a bunch a books about the same characters. In fact, it could all be one book and work just as well.

At first I was disappointed when I found out that this book was about Butch, because I never really liked his character that much. I don’t know why – I guess he just annoyed me for no real reason. But I did end up liking him a lot here and I thought that the story was more interesting because it was something that had been building for a long time, and really bought together everything that had happen so far and pointed towards what’s going to happen next.

Typically, the publisher was evil and put an extract from the next one at the end.

I hate that! Once I start reading something, I just want to read the whole thing (which I guess means their sneaky marketing ploy works!)… yeah, I really am impatient.

The next ones about V. It’s called Lover Unbound* and will be published 2nd October this year. Thank God (or the Scribe Virgin, I guess) for the six month publishing schedule!

On that note, I do wonder at how many she had written before the first was published. Because if she didn’t have the first three done, she must be a bloody quick writer: this book was almost 500 pages.

Oh well, however she does it, she should keep doing it because these books are great. And very funny. (Without me wanting to kill any of the characters for being annoying nit wits.)

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* Which begs the question: do series with the cute tie-in names ever get sick of having to have the cute tie-in name? What happens when the run out of things they can use? Will one of the books have to be called “Lover We’ve Run Out Of Possibilities”? Actually, that’s not too bad... hmmm....

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Book seven: Seduced by the Night

Seduced by the Night (2006)
Robin T. Popp

Rating: 2/5

This book was okay. It is quite well written, had likeable characters and a few intrigues. Nothing startlingly original – although I guess the way the vampires were made is different.

I think this is the second in the series. Once again I haven’t read the first (Out of the Night). I’m not sure why, but the book shop didn’t have it, and my sister bought the second and third anyway? Each book has a different main character, so I don’t think it really matters.

It wasn’t that confusing, so maybe skipping the first one was a good idea. I hate books whose whole point is to set up the rest of the series. You know, meet the main characters! Learn their back story! And here are the rules of the world! Oh, and don’t forget to set up a situation for the next one! So boring.

I prefer series that have more than one protagonist, like this because I don’t think they suffer from this as much.

It did take me a while to work out who a few of the characters were; but the basic premise of how vampires are made and what these one’s wanted, as well as the plot from the first one wasn’t that hard to pick up.

I did like that the main character – who was being targeted by the bad guys – didn’t spend the whole first half (or longer) of the booking running around, getting into danger and constantly going on about how she didn’t need protecting.

She did make a few (ok, a lot) of stupid decisions safety-wise, but I guess they have to get the drama from somewhere, don’t they? Otherwise the whole book would have been about her sitting in a room waiting.

Yeah, that sounds exciting.

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Book six: Crescent Moon

Crescent Moon (2006)
Lori Handeland

Rating: 2.25/5

I liked this book. Even though I had accidentally read one later in the series* (Rising Moon), so kind of knew what was going on, it was still interesting. I did spend most of my time trying to remember what had happened in the other one, but it was entertaining never-the-less.

One thing that stood out about this was that had a more investigative bent them most novels in this genre.

Although, I must admit I do sometimes get bored when books are all “talk, talk, talk.” You know, the main character meets and talks to this person, finds a clue, then talks to another person, finds a clue. Blah, blah.

But I definitely prefer this to the “oh look mystery solved!” approach some novels take.


The characters were also likeable. (Thank God after the last book on The List).

I think there is another of her books lying around in a bookshelf somewhere. I will have to read it soon.

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* I’m still not entirely sure what the correct order is for the other books in the series. It is pretty confusing. On her website they all seem to be one series, but I’ve seen them elsewhere as two?

Hmm, if it is all one series that means this book is also in the middle. Well done me!

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Book five: Hello, Gorgeous!

Hello, Gorgeous! (2005)
MaryJanice Davidson

Rating: 0.25*/5

I wanted to read something light-hearted, funny. Something that wasn’t too serious.

Unfortunately, this had too much emphasis on the ‘not too serious’ and was completely lacking the ‘funny.’

It’s about a woman who is killed in a car accident and turned into human cyborg, worth approximately 9 billon dollars U.S and is forced to work for a government agency.

Okay, fine. Good. I can work with that premise.

It could be funny.

But not if the main character is completely vacuous, with no sense of moral obligation, let alone intelligence. One of the things that annoyed me most about this book, were they kept going on and on about how smart she was. But that’s all it was: people saying how smart she was, without any actual evidence of this intelligence in her decision making, thoughts or personality.

The characters in the book also spent a lot of time going on about how charming she was. Hmmm, I can’t say I found her charming, and no matter how many of the characters tried to convince me with their thoughts, I just couldn’t see it.

Basically she pissed me off to the point that I was just skimming after about the third chapter. I kept reading because I was again the victim of a Blurb that Knows Too Much, with one of the main characters and events mentioned on the back cover not occurring til approximately p.70. I kept hoping that it would get better.

Aside from this, the beginning was very choppy. I’m not sure if this was just because I was waiting for the stuff to happen, or if it was because it jumped all over the place in terms of time and the characters were kind of wandering around the place, talking and going places, with no real plot driving them.

After the hook was revealed, the ‘plot’ was almost non-existent, with the characters getting distracted from the murder they were supposed to be investigating by their own lives. Or in the case of the main character, other people’s lives. The majority of the last third of the book – where the murderer was revealed – was actually spent with her bitching at everyone about another character’s relationship with someone, that had nothing to do with her.

I feel guilty saying bad things about a book that the author spent months writing, possibly years planning, but… I don’t know, what’s the point if I can’t write the truth? I highly doubt anyone will every read it. And, if someone who did enjoy this book happens to stumble across this, you are not alone. There are plenty of positive reviews out there, so maybe it’s just me.

Actually, the thing that had me skimming at chapter four was the main character’s reluctance to work for the government organization she was created by. I found this both unrealistic**, and I don’t know, I guess ungrateful in a strange way. They bring her back from the dead and she won’t even listen to them.

Perhaps if the beginning hadn’t been so choppy, we could have seen her thought process, been present for the initial events after she was changed. I’m not sure why the author skipped over this, but she seemed to back away from the serious questions that are raised by the situation.

If you are bought back from the dead by a secret government organization, are you obliged to do there bidding? We don’t actually learn that much about the organization, so the question of whether or not they are working for the ‘greater good’ or if she agrees with what they do, or what they actually do are never answered.

And even more basic than that, is she still even human? Can she still feel? Is she the same person she was as before?
Which begs the question, am I being too deep for a Brava Contemporary Romance?

I don’t think so.

I think it can be done with both seriousness and humour, while exploring the society and including very cool technology***. In fact, I’ve read it. And maybe if I hadn’t spent the whole time comparing this to Keeping It Real: Quantum Gravity Book I by Justina Robson, I wouldn’t have been so disappointed by the lack of exploration of the deeper issues.

I guess I am being hypocritical, I said I wanted to read this book because I was after something light-hearted and funny, that wasn’t too serious, than complained that it wasn’t serious enough.

I guess I’m saying that the premise didn’t fit the tone. It was too choppy and the author left us to assume too much. Not to mention the main character was just a freaking bitch.

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* It gets 0.5 because there was nothing wrong with the grammar or spelling. What a recommendation.

** I’m sorry, but if you’d dropped 9 billion dollars on something, you’re not just going to let it wander back to its life and forget about it. You are going to track it down, and either force it to work for you through threats and intimation, or hell, I don’t know, they had all that technology they could probably reprogram her into something resembling a human (or at least threaten too). You’re a secret government organisation, not the local Girl Guide chapter. Come on, surely they can get people to do stuff for them – isn’t that the whole point of a secret government organisations in the first place? Actually, come to think of it, her on the run from the people she didn’t want to work for would have made an interesting (and possibly more realistic) book.

*** The only reference made to the technology, are that it is like The Bionic Woman and a brief reference to The Terminator. Perhaps I am too young to understand the Bionic Woman references, and I have to admit my memories of Terminator are a little dim… but I think it was a mistake to let the technological aspect slip. What was it like for her to wake up with machine parts? What were the machine parts anyway? It’s never even mentioned, apart from the fact she could run faster, was stronger, and could ‘scan’ people. It was just disappointing.

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Book four: Valiant

Valiant (2005)
Holly Black

Rating: 4.25/5

Wow. Okay, she can write real good.

I don’t think there is much more I can say about just how good it is.

I enjoyed this a lot, but not as much as the first. I’m not sure if it was because my expectations were higher, but I think it was mostly because I liked the story in Tithe more.

Part of it though, was the dreaded Blurb Syndrome. You know, when you read the back of the book and it tells you too much about the plot to the point where you’re just like ‘hurry up already.’

Well, the back of this book tells you too many details. I wasn’t so much with the ‘hurry up already,’ because I was enjoying getting there, but I think it would have been more suspenseful if the back didn’t summarise most of what happens in the first half (or in my opinion anyway).

It’s really only the third paragraph that ruins it, too.

Black continues to completely ignore the divide between what ‘should be in a YA book’ and ‘what should be in an adult’s book.’ And I don’t think any of it is just for shock value either, everything that happens in the book feels realistic for the characters and the situation.

I really enjoyed the subtly and complexity of the relationships that develop between the characters, and that is something she did so well previously too. The emotions that develop seem so much more real than reading 200 pages of someone obsessing about whether or not the ‘boy’ likes them.

Although I do have the same complaint I had with Tithe: I want more.

I want to know more about what happens to Val. As with Tithe, Black has set up a really interesting premise at the end of the book. In this case, much more interesting in my opinion, than where they were at the beginning. I want to know what happens next.

I’m not sure if we will hear anything more about Val and her friends, but I can say that now I really, really, really, really, really, really don’t want to wait until May until the next one.

I think I shall have to track down The Spiderwick Chronicles* ASAP.

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* The Spiderwick Chronicles were created with Tony DiTerlizzi (who I believe is the illustrator?). They are: The Field Guide, The Seeing Stone, Lucinda’s Secret, The Ironwood Tree and The Wrath of Mulgarath.

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Book three: Tithe

Tithe (2002)
Holly Black

Rating: 4.5/5

There is no other way of describing it: I want to eat this book.

It was so good.

So, so good that I am almost scared to read the next one. I know that the next book does not follow on from this one, but while Kaye’s story was exciting and suspense filled and all those good things, the writing was the best thing about it.

All books should be this well written. It really should be a rule.

You know when you are reading something, and you can just, I don’t know, feel the words in your head or something? On your tongue, like they should be read out loud? Like the words are in the exact right order, and you don’t even have to concentrate to see the whole thing playing out in your head? It just flows.

I don’t know how to explain it, but this book has it.

I also loved it because it was a YA book, without the YA sugar coating. I hate that. I don’t want the world to be covered with a sickly sweetness, with characters that deal with problems that aren’t really problems and have resolutions that aren’t really interesting. I want it to be realistic.

For example, approximately 97.8 percent of teenagers swear… but not in books. I knew I was going to love this book the moment Corny thought, “She couldn’t understand that the age of guerrilla engineering was at a close, that being a motherfucking genius wasn’t enough. You needed to be a rich motherfucking genius.” (p.16).

Finally, a teenage boy, who sounded like a teenage boy. Gasp!

I did find it funny when I bought it that it had “Advisory Adult Content” on the back. I do remember when I was at school, that a friend of mine’s mother used to read any book she was given as a present and then decide whether or not it was suitable for her to read. Hmmm, ye-as, that was worthwhile, because a fifteen year old girl wouldn’t have known about sex, smoking, drinking, or swearing unless she read about them. No siree!

I do wonder though if this wasn’t a fantasy novel if they could get away with that sort of thing? I mean, how tight are the censorship guidelines on what can and can’t be printed in a YA novel? Or is it just the publishers not wanting to risk scandal?

Either way, I don’t care. This book was brilliant and there should be more like it.

In fact, I may overcome my trepidation and read Valiant tomorrow. Thankfully my sister already read both last year, so it is in the bookshelf waiting.

The next book in the A Modern Tale of Faerie series, Ironside, is to be released in the U.S. in May of this year.

...and it is about Kaye. Okay. I admit it, I lied, I want to know more about her… I was just willing to let go of the hope, if there wasn’t going to be anymore.

Because, the only thing I didn’t like about this book was that it was too short. I just wanted it to go on a little longer… to see a little more of the outcome of what happened. And now I can… only I can’t. I have to wait.

Damn it all. I just read the excerpt on the author's website. Now I really, really, really want to read it.

Impatient, much?

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Book two: I Only Have Fangs for You

I Only Have Fangs for You (2006)
Kathy Love

Rating: 3.25/5
[Re-reading]

I must have been in the mood for vampires or third books in series* or something this week. This is also a re-read.

I can’t say that the plot is complicated, but the premise is interesting. The idea of the extremist vampire organisation trying to stop vampires hurting people is both intriguing and funny.

I think that Love does a great job of taking all the good elements of contemporary romance and mixing in the paranormal. It is well written, sweet, funny, and the characters are actually likeable.

I know this shouldn’t be surprising, but with so many books that try to do the “funny” side of vampires, the characters usually spend half the book complaining, or obsessing about designer shoes. And I end up hating them and their self-centredness. Not so here.

While searching for a pretty picture of the cover, I found out that there will be another book in the series, My Sister is a Werewolf to be published in July 2007.

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* I haven’t actually read the second book in this series, Fangs but no Fangs, because I couldn’t get it at the bookshop, but I have ordered it from Amazon. I decided I would skip ahead and read this anyway, on the strength of the first, Fangs for the Memories.

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Book one: Dance with the Devil

Dance with the Devil (2003)
Sherrilyn Kenyon

Rating: 3/5
[Re-reading]

In the interest of intellectual snobbery: why couldn't the first book have been something high-brow? Why didn't I whip through War and Peace instead?

Oh well. Let's start as we mean to go on.

This is actually an entertaining book. (I'm pretty sure War and Peace isn't.) It is the third in Kenyon's Dark-Hunter series. The best part about this this book is that it introduces Simi, one of my favourite characters. She quality people.

Last week I read the new book in the series (although it is not really in the series, its a "Dream" Hunter book instead.) I think that is called... ummm, Dream Hunter. Hmm, creative title!

Anyway, that was set back in 1996*, and I guess was occurring in parallel with the first** book in the series (Night Pleasures... she's not been lucky with the titles, has she?) and I got all intrigued to find out what was happening at the same time in the series.

Plus, it is better in the week to read books you've already read. Otherwise you end up staying up to 4 am to find out what happens. Or at least I do.

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* Its interesting to consider that she wrote that 11 years ago now (although it was published in 2002), almost before the paranormal romance sub-genre existed. Or at least I wasn't reading it. Well, I was 12, so I was probably reading Sweet Valley High, but whatever. Actually, I didn't read hardly any YA when I was actually a teenager. But that's a topic for another time.

** Although the first to be branded as "A Dark-Hunter Novel," this is also arguably not the first in the series, as Fantasy Lover, the short story Beginnings and the novella Dragonswan also deal with the world before this book. I'm pretty sure that Fantasy Lover was published first.

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You might like to know the purpose of this

This blog is to keep track of all the books I read in the next year - from March 1st 2007 to February 29th 2008.

Why am I starting in March? Because I didn't think of doing this til then, and I can't remember what books I've read in the past two months...

There is no real reason except I would like to know just how many books I read a week, a month, a year.

Will the number be embarrassingly high, or worse embarrassingly low? Or will it be normal? And what is the normal number of books for a person to read in a year?

Hmmm...

There is also another reason. I love books. They are pretty. They are one of my all time favorite things. I am addicted. I like to talk about them, read about them, write about them. I think I’ll do it here.

That's all. Let the list begin.

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I might be crazy

This is a test post.

It is testing, in a test-like manner.

Don't get testy at the test post; you won't pass its test.

Test, test, test.

Let's hear that one more time: TEST!

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