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all the trouble you're in
Dec. 12th, 2008 01:56 pmAhh, let's talk books, shall we?
The Host, or my last chance to win me over S. Meyer book. I'll admit it. I loved Twilight, and I love Alice and Jacob, but as a whole, the series *coughBellacough* drove me insane at times. If you're new, then you don't know that. But there aren't that many new people. Anyway, Cassy's husband recommended The Host and Mom requested the book from the library by accident. [She was bitten by the Twilight bug. She, I'm sorry to say, is enamored of Edward, but I tell myself that's because Jacob's level of awesome doesn't really kick in just yet.] So. I cracked the book once Mumsy began complaining it had to be returned to the library soon. I know, right? I didn't request the thing, she did and I'm getting fussed at for not reading it fast enough. Rude!
( So, without Christopher Pike actually writing enough novels, I keep seeing his influence everywhere. )
Leaving that brick behind, we move on to my brain candy in the form of Revelation, the latest book [that I can get my grubby hands on, at any rate] in the Private series. For once it took until the end of the book for me to want to throttle Reed something horrible. With that in mind, an open suggestion to all YA protaganists: When you come home to find your room/house/whatever trashed, you call the fucking police. When someone leaves proof of the crime they've commited? You call the damn cops. You do not flush the evidence down the toilet.
But I can overlook that because Reed had a backbone through most of the book and I swear, I could not be more proud. But I could be more smug because... you ready? I knew it! ( I knew it! )
Okie. Amandas have been carded and will be escorted to the mailbox tomorrow. I'd take them out today, but, um, the mail has already come and I didn't think to grab my pile o' cards and hand them to the mailman when he rang the bell to get me to sign for something.
The Host, or my last chance to win me over S. Meyer book. I'll admit it. I loved Twilight, and I love Alice and Jacob, but as a whole, the series *coughBellacough* drove me insane at times. If you're new, then you don't know that. But there aren't that many new people. Anyway, Cassy's husband recommended The Host and Mom requested the book from the library by accident. [She was bitten by the Twilight bug. She, I'm sorry to say, is enamored of Edward, but I tell myself that's because Jacob's level of awesome doesn't really kick in just yet.] So. I cracked the book once Mumsy began complaining it had to be returned to the library soon. I know, right? I didn't request the thing, she did and I'm getting fussed at for not reading it fast enough. Rude!
( So, without Christopher Pike actually writing enough novels, I keep seeing his influence everywhere. )
Leaving that brick behind, we move on to my brain candy in the form of Revelation, the latest book [that I can get my grubby hands on, at any rate] in the Private series. For once it took until the end of the book for me to want to throttle Reed something horrible. With that in mind, an open suggestion to all YA protaganists: When you come home to find your room/house/whatever trashed, you call the fucking police. When someone leaves proof of the crime they've commited? You call the damn cops. You do not flush the evidence down the toilet.
But I can overlook that because Reed had a backbone through most of the book and I swear, I could not be more proud. But I could be more smug because... you ready? I knew it! ( I knew it! )
Okie. Amandas have been carded and will be escorted to the mailbox tomorrow. I'd take them out today, but, um, the mail has already come and I didn't think to grab my pile o' cards and hand them to the mailman when he rang the bell to get me to sign for something.
