I’d really like about a week off–so I can obsess and brood and just be a hermit. I want to watch chick flicks and read awesome YA lit. That’s all I want. Just a week with no demands, no calls, no…anything.

Sorry to be a drag. Just the truth.

As some of you already know, I’m a FirstLook reader for HarperTeen books. Since I enjoy reading YA fiction (and edit it extensively–it’s actually one of my specialties–if I’m allowed to have those yet), this is a great way to keep up with the books being published by HarperCollins, one of the largest book publishers in the U.S.

I sign up each month for books I think will be interesting, and then I wait until the beginning of the next month to see if I’ve been picked to read and write a review for them. The readers are randomly picked via computer, so it’s always a crap shoot whether or not I’ll have something to read for the month.

Even though I know full well that it’s chosen randomly, I still feel rejected somehow when I get the e-mail stating that I haven’t been chosen this month to read (fill in name of book[s] I signed up for). I’ve reviewed three books for them so far, and I do really enjoy lending my voice and opinion to an up-and-coming book.

Sometimes I’m unexpectedly too busy that month to really fit in time to read another book, even for review, and really should feel grateful to unnamed computer in New York for not picking me, but I still feel rejected.

Rejected by randomness.

I wanted to write a beautiful tribute to Kurt Vonnegut, like Natasha did, or a cool, to-the-point comment, like Froyd did, but, in reality, I don’t know enough of Vonnegut’s work to do either. So I’ll just say this:

The literature (and free-thinking) world lost a great man when Kurt Vonnegut passed. I know we will all feel it.

I’m going to go get Slaughterhouse Five and read it. And then I’m going to read the rest of his work. It’s the best tribute I can muster for a man I never knew but respected. And I think any writer would appreciate that sort of memoriam.

I started reading A Great and Terrible Beauty on Saturday because my friend, L, reminded me that I still had her book (in the nicest way possible), and that the third one was coming out soon. I still hadn’t started the first. So I started it.

It’s freaking awesome.

I haven’t been able to put it down all weekend, which hasn’t been good for the ol’ homework. I’m going to have to rush to get a bunch of work done today, but I still want to keep reading. I’m halfway through (which means I’m going along at a pretty good clip, which is amazing for me because I swear I’m the slowest English-Major/Writing-Major reader in the entire world; I always blame it on my “reading for editing” skills, which causes me to read slower for analysis and copyediting).

Seriously, Libba Bray kicks some serious butt in the historical fiction department, young adult or adult. This has got to be one of the best books I’ve read in a really long time.

Stupid homework. Why don’t you go do yourself, and then I can get back to my book, hmm?

Up for tonight:

Watching “Memoirs of a Geisha” and eating DiGiorno Pizza. After that, I will finish reading “The Nanny Diaries” and work on my wedding scrapbook. My older sister will call tonight, too (she said she will), and I will talk to my mom and the hubby, as well.

Mmm… Life is good.

Nora, can I be your proofreader? Apprentice? Anything?!

I’ve been reading all morning. The hubby left for work at around 7:15 a.m., and I laid in bed, desperately trying to get back to sleep until around 8 a.m. Then I sat up, turned on the light, and started reading Blue Dahlia by Nora Roberts. And I haven’t stopped.

Now for all of you who are guffawing at the fact that I read Nora Roberts need to sit down and read one of her books. Seriously amazing writer. And I’m picky as hell about who I read. She may be more prolific than Stephen King, but she is a fantastic storyteller. She has mastered the omniscient narrator (an impressive feat, if I do say so myself), she has a great vocabulary, solid and consistent tone, and she is being put in the Romance section by mistake. Her novels aren’t bodice rippers; they are solid works of fiction. And when there is a sex scene, it is tactfully well done. I’ve read naughtier stuff from the general fiction area. And each of her novels are different. She has a definite voice to her narration, but the plotlines and characters are unique. Put her books in Chick Lit, if you want to shelve her away from general fiction, but I don’t think that’s where she belongs (I know that genre well, and this is [sorry, my Chick Lit girls!] better than Chick Lit). Or, even better, mystery, though her alias, J.D. Robb, has already claimed that spot for her. If you just think I’m a young writer who knows nothing about books and are going to dismiss me, you are wrong. Go see for yourself. Pick up Birthright. You won’t be disappointed.

P.S. Thank you, Mom, for lending me all these books. They rock!

Unsuccessfully Reading Legends of the Fall

I have been attempting to get through this piece of literature for the past five days. I feel terrible for taking so long because I told Angel and Erin that I would give it to them when I’m done, but I just couldn’t get through it. I should have just given it to them half-way through when the author really disappointed me. It’s a novella; should have taken me a day, at most, but I can honestly say I have never disliked a piece of writing as much as this.

The storyline is, generally speaking, interesting enough, but the author goes about telling it in a completely wrong way. He is attempting to use Omniscient third person POV and failing miserably. From what I’ve learned (and I’m no expert), if you’re going to be omniscient, make sure you give everyone their time in the limelight, or at least don’t be in someone’s head for too long. At first I thought it was going to be in Ludlow’s POV. Then he switched it to Isabel’s, then Alfred’s, then Tristan’s and by the time he switched it to Susannah, I was messed up because he had spent so much time with Tristan, I thought that was where we were staying. With omniscient, I know he is supposed to switch, but he spent so much time with Tristan (seriously, pages and pages; perhaps around 25-30 or so), I thought this was going to be the permanent POV. And then he would switch POV in the middle of paragraphs. At least give me some warning, especially when there are plently of “he”s floating around with most of the characters being male.

And then he gets preachy. Oh, please, do not tell me what you’re meaning because I don’t need to be told. This is one author that does not trust his audience. He feels as if he has to lecture his reader because he believes we’re too stupid to figure it out for ourselves. I have learned that the characters’ actions and responses to situations are supposed to tell the “message.” Show, don’t tell. This author tells way too much. I started getting slightly offended because I was getting all of this all along, and half-way through the story he starts lecturing me about it.

Then he tells us that Tristan will live to the ripe old age of 88 (or so) and is found next to the deer carcass he had just skinned dead by one of his grandsons. And this is about half-way through the story, as well. This little tidbit he threw in surrounded by parentheses just ruined the story for me because I enjoyed not knowing if Tristan will survive another of his crazy adventures. It was the only thing that kept me going in this monotonous piece of writing. And now I know he will not only survive everything that could possibly happen, but also move to Canada and has children, whether or not with Susannah, which was one of the most important goals in his life. Tristan is attempting to “replace” his brother, Samuel, is killed in battle within the first ten or so pages of the novella. His exploits are also an attempt to understand why Samuel died.

The author didn’t do a very good job creating Samuel as an individual character. We know he is sensitive and smart, having been in college at Harvard for the sciences, and that he is his mother’s pet and the golden boy of the military officers. So when he is killed in a forest, we as readers care a little bit because he is one of the brothers and a character in this story, but I felt no real remorse or connection to him. When he died, I kind of shrugged my shoulders because I didn’t connect with him as a real person. Because of this detachment, the rest of the story seems almost far-fetched because we never really see why Tristan is so driven to bring back his brother except for the fact that Samuel was his brother. There are no real memories with all the boys involved. We know Tristan is driven by demons inside and that would seem reason enough, but the catalyst is his brother’s death. Why is this so? Was he particularily close to Samuel? We don’t know. Did they have a bond that wasn’t there with Alfred? We don’t really know, unless I am completely missing the point, and I guess I could very well be.

We have to watch the movie version in class today, and I am most definitely not looking forward to it. I know I cannot speak my mind about this because the professor loves the story. I would like to tell her what I think about all this, but, then again, I’m also afraid I’m just missing the point, as I mentioned before. Perhaps it is just not my cup of tea. There are plenty of people out there who enjoy this author’s work. He is just not for me, and therefore, no matter what, I don’t think I will ever like Legends of the Fall.