(no subject)

My level of masochism is rising, though to be fair, I did not bring this entirely upon myself. When at the library during our last visit, Mums pointed out the new Merry Gentry book. Cass had begun reading it and she needed someone to commiserate with, so I decided I'd read it next.

Yeaaaaaaaah. Three pages in and I realized that for the most part, I don't really care all that much. Seems a bit odd since I like the Merry-verse more than Anita's (because while the joke is that Merry and Anita are the same character, they aren't. I think they're rapidly blurring together for their author, but I can still pretend that if the two met, Merry would be horrified by how much Anita lies to herself and the way she treats her gaggle of interchangeable boytoys.) but I couldn't really muster up any enthusiasm for the book. Possibly because Cass was bitching about it and I'd heard that a character I sort of liked (as much as one can like anyone on the B/C-list, I guess) suffered a serious case of character assasination.

It was worse than I feared. My pain, let me share it with you.
( I'm not done yet, so this is pain in progress! )

Conclusion thus far?

Oi.