I downloaded a romance by a writer I’d never heard of (not surprising, I am completely out of the loop on romance at this point), and while the leads were charming and the setting excellent, everything kept happening as expected. It was fun to read–who doesn’t want to read about people falling in love with a happy ending–I felt no interest in buying more of the books in the series or even rereading that one again, even though I’d enjoyed it. It was the first time I’d read something and realized I didn’t want to read it again, ever, even though it had been fun to read. I think it might be the predictability of it–knowing there’s a happy ending is a romance staple does not mean knowing everything that’s going to happen is okay, too–or possibly that so much of the conflict was of the if-they’d-just-talked variety. It is also possible that I’m just a jaded bitch.
I read two supernatural books this week that were/are bestsellers, and I found them both curiously flawed. One was Lev Grossman’s The Magicians, which was a kind of grittier Harry Potter with weirdly cold sex, and the other Ben Aaronovitch’s Lies Sleeping. Spoilers ahead.
So we’re halfway through November, (five days before the new Aaronovitch is supposed to land), and there’s a threat of snow outside, so I’m going to build a fire and lose myself in a good book, in this case, the one I’m writing. It’s still going all over the place, but I like it. That’s HUGE.
This week I read recipes, including all of Ina Garten’s first cookbook. There are many turned-down corners on pages and Big Plans. I’m still celebrating Sloth Day here, so after that, not much, which means I’m relying on all of you. What are you reading?