I’ve been remiss in updating this blog lately, and I apologize for that. It’s due in part to the week I spent visiting my parents, and due in part to the fact the only book I’m currently working through is Deadline, and I’d like to talk about things other than the Newsflesh trilogy, though I’m sure Mira Grant appreciates what little bonus publicity this blog offers.
So instead of offering anything new, I’ll instead cop to one of my guiltiest pleasures. You’d think that a grown-ass woman who openly lurks in the YA section of her local library (I may have spent an hour there the other day browsing through the Meg Cabot Princess Diaries series) wouldn’t have anything she’s ashamed to admit she reads. My guilty pleasure is the Sookie Stackhouse/Southern Vampire series, by Charlaine Harris. Yes, the ones that True Blood is based on. Now, let me say, I don’t necessarily feel ashamed that I’ve read these. My friends are all aware (in part because I am one of Those People who feels the need to periodically comment on how they did [storyline] in the books versus the show, etc., etc.), and I keep them on my bookshelf like any other novel, not hidden covertly under my bed or anything like that.
I started the first one on a bus and was quickly hooked. In a very busy summer, I found myself buying the books two at a time at bus stations and airports (I said it was busy). I consider myself lucky to get myself involved in a series that was prevalent enough to have the next volumes I needed at the moment available when and where I needed them. I reread them every year in preparation for the newest book in the series being released, and usually every time I find myself taking notes on inconsistencies in the canon, for my own amusement (one of the reasons I decided to start this blog). You’ll get those at a later date, lucky you.
So what are your guilty pleasures? The books that you’re not embarrassed to have someone discover you read, but that you wouldn’t jump up and announce to everyone? I’ve shown you mine.