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Despite having followed Seanan McGuire on Twitter for years and greatly enjoying her storytelling abilities there, I had never read any of her books. i've meant to, but series can be confusing, and if you're not ready to dive into them-- and then some of her work is horror, and I am Not Allowed To Read Any Horror on account of the living in a canvas shack in the woods for a sizeable proportion of the year, and said canvas shack has no actual locking doors or windows and it gets real dark out there and the woods make scary noises, you understand--- anyway, I've explained that before.
But.
My BFF loves to read things, and has rediscovered this ability. Her taste runs largely to """"trashy"""" (I say lovingly, by which I mean, ripping yarns, not Self-Important Literature) stuff with fantasy and romance elements, which is a fine genre and one I've spent a great deal of time in and, arguably, write in, myself, so.
Anyhow, she doesn't use libraries much; she's always had disposable income, at least a modest amount, and so she prefers to buy paperbacks and then donate them to the library once she's loaned them around to everyone she thinks might like them in her circle of friends.
She's been going through somewhat of a rough patch, so when she loaned me the first four (!) books of the Incryptid series, she kept sort of desperately talking about them, and clearly wanted me to read them, so that I could talk about them with her.
So I've inhaled all four in the last two days, which... sort of worked?? But I should not have binged them like that, because now I'm like... hung-over. IDK, I tend to read quite sparingly because I kind of am addict-like about it. I can't think about anything else while I'm in the throes of it. And if it's a book I really like, I either spiral straight from the reading into obsessive fanfic, or I reread it compulsively until I starve to death or some real-life deadline intervenes.
Anyway, my review of the series is: Ripping yarns, well-told. Not going to suck me into either fic or rereading, which is merciful. They're wonderfully worldbuilt, fairly snappy, with good characterizations and consistent voices and the like, and satisfying pacing. I like them, I'm not going to melt into them, this is perfect for what they are.
Boy, I'm hung-over, literarily speaking. But I figured this week was my chance to get those books sucked down before BFF got any more sad that I didn't know what the eff she was talking about.
I would really like a little peace to get this novel started. I named about half the characters I need to, and I just need time to sit with it and let it unspool a little, and then I'll get to pick it back up and make it be something. If only I can get the time. Somehow it never seems to happen. Maybe I'm procrastinating, or maybe I'm just stuck.
But.
My BFF loves to read things, and has rediscovered this ability. Her taste runs largely to """"trashy"""" (I say lovingly, by which I mean, ripping yarns, not Self-Important Literature) stuff with fantasy and romance elements, which is a fine genre and one I've spent a great deal of time in and, arguably, write in, myself, so.
Anyhow, she doesn't use libraries much; she's always had disposable income, at least a modest amount, and so she prefers to buy paperbacks and then donate them to the library once she's loaned them around to everyone she thinks might like them in her circle of friends.
She's been going through somewhat of a rough patch, so when she loaned me the first four (!) books of the Incryptid series, she kept sort of desperately talking about them, and clearly wanted me to read them, so that I could talk about them with her.
So I've inhaled all four in the last two days, which... sort of worked?? But I should not have binged them like that, because now I'm like... hung-over. IDK, I tend to read quite sparingly because I kind of am addict-like about it. I can't think about anything else while I'm in the throes of it. And if it's a book I really like, I either spiral straight from the reading into obsessive fanfic, or I reread it compulsively until I starve to death or some real-life deadline intervenes.
Anyway, my review of the series is: Ripping yarns, well-told. Not going to suck me into either fic or rereading, which is merciful. They're wonderfully worldbuilt, fairly snappy, with good characterizations and consistent voices and the like, and satisfying pacing. I like them, I'm not going to melt into them, this is perfect for what they are.
Boy, I'm hung-over, literarily speaking. But I figured this week was my chance to get those books sucked down before BFF got any more sad that I didn't know what the eff she was talking about.
I would really like a little peace to get this novel started. I named about half the characters I need to, and I just need time to sit with it and let it unspool a little, and then I'll get to pick it back up and make it be something. If only I can get the time. Somehow it never seems to happen. Maybe I'm procrastinating, or maybe I'm just stuck.
