January 26, 2012 by Lindsay Sharman
Greetings, lovers of literature and… faces. If you’ve been reading my blogs thus far, you’ll know that I’m engaged in a fierce battle with my baser instincts that only want me to talk about my bits. You’ll also be aware (because obviously my words are stamped upon your soul) that I wrote a mysterious note to myself to make my next blog about ‘books and face.’ So that’s what I’m doing.
Books, eh? I was reading one with my face the other day, it was called…..errrrr……
I’ll have to check the homepage. I got a kindle for my nnnngth birthday in November, and since then I can’t remember shit about what I’ve been reading. Don’t know the titles, the authors, only a vague impression of plot…
I’m drinking a latte by the way.
Anyway. Homepage, here we go. Oh dear, I’ve mainly been reading fantasy and sci-fi. The only non-geeky book in my kindle is ‘Half Asleep in Frog Pyjamas’ by Tom Robbins, who I like for his lyrical and philosophical content and rockin’ sex scenes. Although I have noticed a trend in his books towards using a gutsy uncompromising female character (always hot), and a maverick messianic male character (never hot), and at some point (or several points) they get it on in quite a heavy-duty visceral fashion. I wonder what the author looks like? I have no problem with this element of Robbin’s work, as if I ever write a book, a pea-headed extra-tall female protagonist will be pulling all manner of way-out-of-her-league chaps.
I have also been reading the Game of Thrones books. There are quite a few of these things, and while they started off excellently, they get shit by book 4. Plus it turns out it took the author 7 years to write the latest installment, it’s 1600 pages long, and it STILL doesn’t wrap everything up. I now feel like doing a ‘Misery’ on author George R. R. Martin (two R’s George? Is that necessary? Or, like your books, is it symptomatic of you not knowing when to stop?); hunting him down, crippling him, and making him re-write the last two to my specifications.
Other than that, I also downloaded some execrable piece of crap because it was 50p and had a few good reviews, only to find that apparently any bugger can write something in crayon and Amazon will sell it on Kindle. The reviews were as well-written and varied in tone as the ‘book’ so I should have guessed.
And finally, I’m currently reading ‘Mistborn: Book One’ because I can’t get enough of being led by the nose through a series of books, only to find after about 30 quid’s worth of downloads that the author hadn’t given any thought to an overall ‘plot.’ It’s not brilliantly written, this one, although it feeds my utterly juvenile appetite for waifs-with-magical-powers and stabbing-people-righteously-in-awesome-stylised-fights.
So, that re-establishes me as part of the intelligentsia, I believe.
Fare ye well!