Wednesday, December 12, 2012

letter to a once-lover.

Dear Love,

Does it sound weird, calling you that? Does it make you cringe and wish this never reached you? Or are you laughing at the fact that I'm still not over you? Or, maybe, just maybe, it's making you smile a little. And remember us. I hope it's making you think of us.

I still think of us. Of the things we did, the plans we made, the dreams we shared. I think of us with every waking moment. And in the quiet of the night, when the rest of the world is slumber-worn, floating in an universe far removed from the one they inhabit during the day, I remember our phone calls - the late calls that made me a night bird, the thought of which still keeps me a night bird. I remember all that we spoke of. There was something about that time post-midnight. Everything seemed brighter, newer, shinier. Everything was...possible. The world was ours. We were infinite. 

Most nights I wait for the phone to ring. And it does. Just not from you. And when it does ring from you, it's just not that magical hour.

But thank you, for the phone calls. It's always good to hear your voice and even better when I can almost hear you smiling through your words. Sometimes I admonish myself, for waiting so eagerly for you to call, for trying to hold on to every bit of our conversation, when I know that you only call when you're bored. And lonely. And not with her.

I miss laughing with you.

You said you still wanted us to be friends. I couldn't grudge you that. I still wanted to be in your life some way. Does it make me pathetic that I can't let you go? Do you feel sorry that I'd hold on to you any which way I can even though I hate myself for it? Does being in close proximity and not being the way we were before kill you like it kills me - or are we just two people with memories?

I try.
I try.
I try so hard to keep your thoughts away from my mind. But it's like an ache I can't get rid of. And you don't help really. You're hot and you're cold and you come and you go and you leave me with hopes only to dash them all with the next silent treatment.

Remember that Taylor Swift song The Story of Us? Granted neither of us were huge fans, but we also reminded ourselves that we'd never be like that song. How ironic is it that that's exactly where we got stuck -
                                      This is looking like a contest
                                      Of who can act like they care less
Irony over irony. Makes me wonder if all heartbreaks feel the same way. Which is why it feels like some our singing our diary, while some our writing our story.

I wanted to do everything in the world with you. Wake up every morning next to you. Team up for The Amazing Race together. Visit New York. Tell you I loved you on top of the Eiffel Tower.
You wanted that, too. Or that's what you said.
What happened to all that?
Have you replaced me with her now? Do you dream these dreams with her now? Is it her you have in mind when you read Neruda now?

I hope you don't find her skin when you turn off the lights.

I hope for a lot of things now. Like maybe you'll call me tonight. Or perhaps we'll run into each other tomorrow near that cafe we used to haunt post noon. Or maybe you'll wake up tomorrow and realise you're still in love with me and it was lying dormant slumber-like this past month and has now reawakened with new found fervour and you'll never leave me again. Or even think of it.
Yes, I still hope for some kind of a miracle. Because it's that hope that really get me going.
I mean, you loved me, right? And it couldn't really have vanished into the night, could it?

Maybe you'll find it again.
Maybe you'll just need time.

Don't be scared, though. It's okay if you don't want to come back. No, I take that back. It won't be okay. It can't be okay. But I'll understand. Like I have tried to understand things when it comes to you.

It'll break my already broken heart. And it'll kill me to see you with someone else. But I think I'll survive. People do live on with broken hearts, don't they? Another irony of existence. But, yeah, I'll get by. I think.

So don't you worry about me. Hope you get from your life all that you want from it.

Maybe we'll run into each other at Paris - what, five, ten years from now.
Maybe our kids will meet and fall in love. (How weird will that be?)
Maybe you'll find yourself in a story of mine.
Maybe.

But hey.
Even if the maybes don't happen, you'll always have my heart.


Always,
Your once-lover.


Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Because it's the 31st of July.

Happy Birthday,

To the woman who stole my 8 year old heart and has kept it since.

And the boy for whom I lived.



- A Potterhead For Life.

Monday, June 18, 2012

Leftovers.


She smelled of sex. Under her fingernails, in her hair, between her legs – there were pieces of him stuck on her, in her, within her. It pleased her. Pleased her to know that he would somehow, in someway, always be attached to her.

She watched him in the doorway. Bare-bodied, except for the trouser leg he had slid his left leg in. That leg which precisely seven minutes before was straddling her. There went the other leg now. The one around which her leg had curved. He was beautiful. Even in the dim light that seeped from under the door of the apartment next door, he was beautiful. So beautiful it made her heart ache. And race, knowing that the beautiful boy had been hers moments ago.  

She watched him pick his shirt off the floor. Watched as he threw it across his shoulders and threw a glance at her.  She smiled at him, willing those amber eyes to look at her and smile. Smile the way they had when his lips had spelt out the you’re beautifuls, as his hands explored her everywhere else.

His eyes didn’t reach her face. They reached her legs, the bare skin that slid from under the rumpled purple sheets, goose-pimpled from the rush of the sex. He savoured the sight of the slim, wrinkle-less leg and remembered himself in university. Him and Maya.  Squeezing knees under the desk in anthropology class, sneaking kisses behind her parents’ back during Diwali – married within 10 months of graduation, they couldn’t live without each other.

He watched her on the bed and remembered Maya on the first night they’d made love – the night of her birthday eve, two weeks since they’d started dating. Maya astonished him, everyday, every moment that she was with him. He remembered making promises that night, promises of getting out of their small hick town, backpacking around the world, writing movie scripts. Now, three years of marriage later, with an 18 month old baby on the back, they’d run out of words to say, run out of love to make.  The very vivacious Maya that had fascinated him, now filled him with dread, of endless tirades about there being not enough, of him not doing enough. He watched the girl on the bed and wondered what it would be like to take her home with him.

She wondered how long he would take. He’d told her he would be back in an hour. He had some things to take care of, but he would be back. She wanted to believe him, wanted to hope that he could be hers for more than an evening, but she remembered how he’d taken his things as he’d said that, cleared her apartment of all his leftovers. She lit a Marlboro and watched the smoke drift towards the window, out of it and sail to the moon.

There was a party two blocks down. A party she was invited to. Wahab Nishat’s party. Wahab, who she’d known since school. Wahab who sent her a rose, accompanied with a poem, every Valentine’s Day, no matter where she was. Wahab, who said he loved her.  Wahab who said he’d bring her the world.

She glanced over at the door. It was slightly ajar from where he’d walked out. She did not get up to shut it. Maybe he would come back. Maybe he wouldn’t. Still, she didn’t put her shirt back on.  She lit another cigarette and waited.

He sat with a steaming mug of coffee, at a bistro, two blocks from her apartment. It had been ten minutes that he’d stepped out, ten minutes that he’d been thinking about her. He could hear the Black Eyed Peas streaming out of the house next to where he was sitting. Four college kids were standing in the balcony, beer cans strewn around their feet. He’d told the girl that he would go back. He wanted to, but sometimes want wasn’t enough. Like it wasn’t enough just to be married. Maya always told him that. The same Maya who’d told him three years back that he was enough.  Told him that he was all she needed.

He thought of the girl he’d left at the apartment, imagined her waiting for him and felt his legs lift him from the chair. She was so young it made his heart ache. He wouldn’t be that young again. Maya wouldn’t be that young again. But being with the girl made him feel young, even if it was fleeting, even it was just his brain playing tricks. He could still see her apartment. He could go back in. He could.

His phone rang.

“The movers just called. They’ll be taking the furniture away tomorrow morning.”

In three days he’d be 2020kms across the country. Him, Maya and the kid. Maya said it was a chance at starting over. He sometimes wanted to ask start over what? Could they rewind back their lives and be 20 again, conquer the world together like they’d planned to? Could they make love again like nobody’s business without worrying about waking up the kid?

He put down his mug and spilled coffee over his wrist. He took out his handkerchief and a slip of paper fell out. Fuchsia coloured and scribbled across in black ink. Her phone number. He didn’t notice it fall. He didn’t notice it flutter upon the pavement near his feet, before a gust of wind from a passing car blew it into the wind and lodged it into the cart of an ice-cream vendor.

He held the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he wiped the coffee off his wrist. 
“Hey Maya,” he said. “Lets go out for dinner tonight.”

Friday, May 25, 2012

In Which I Talk About Being An Epic Fail

If you're still reading this blog, I want to hug you. I realise you wouldn't want to hug back, cos I've been a terrible blogger. Erratic posts, months of neglect, you know what I mean. I don't really have to emphasize. But, YOU - deserve a hug of appreciation.

Thing is, I don't even have an excuse for this.

I can't tell you that I've been awfully busy or that something terrible happened that kept me away from the virtual world because it's not true. My life hasn't been tough. On the contrary it's been rather pleasant. Except for the fact that I've been sick for a week, I've been...almost happy. And this isn't about a week-long illness. This blog-neglect thing has been building up for months now. Almost 6 months into the year and I have an embarrassing number of posts to show for it.

The cause? I'll get back to you on that when I find out.

All I do know, is that somehow that drive is gone. (Doesn't it feel like a pity party already?)
I've been an erratic blogger, to the point where sometimes the whole blogging thing has started to feel like a chore. When it's really not. I mean, nobody ever forced me into this thing. Yes, I do have author/publisher review requests waiting for me, but they only send them 'cos they know I love doing it and I've asked for it. Not like I'm being force-fed it.
My reading count has gone down. It's like I've hit the lowest of the lows since I was, I don't know, 9 years old.  I planned on reading a 100 books this year and instead I'm floundering somewhere in the early 20s when almost half-the-freaking-year is gone.
And writing? I haven't added anything new to What Was Mine since February and I dare to call myself an aspiring writer. I keep thinking about it and seeing everything unfold in my head like a movie, but somehow, when it comes to putting it into writing, the words have stopped flowing.

It's like I've lost that whole drive to do the things that I loved the most.

And no, it doesn't even give me the satisfaction of feeling like a tortured artist. No trench-coat-wearing (it's too freaking hot), cigarette-smoking (allergic), caffeine-drinking (happens, but occasionally) tormented persona for me to fall back on. That romance has flown outta the window. All I do now is watch Supernatural (at least that's one loved thing I still have immense drive for) and scream-sing along to Aerosmith and Kansas and all those bands that feature on the Supernatural soundtrack and then I think about how cool all their lives are and it makes me feel tremendously sad that I'm freaking-21-years-old and I haven't even achieved half the things I thought I would by now. And I don't know, I just can't even do anything about it because now when I think of distracting myself from thoughts of this ridiculous helplessness I can't even read or write, instead I Facebook-procrastinate. Like, seriously. What is wrong with me?

It's like I've even stopped trying. Like, earlier there was a certain belief to hold on to. A belief that yeah, all those things that I dream of? Yes, they can come true. But it's like somebody reached inside me and pulled that belief out, ground it into powder and blew it into the wind and now it's so far away I can't even get it back. Like someone put all those dreams and goals in a bag and stamped a big-lettered 'Cancelled' over it and now dangles it over my head just to show that no, none of them came true and I'm exactly where I was two years back and maybe this'll where I'll be in many more years to come. Just stagnant.

When I think about blogging, getting back into it and it's cool-dom, I'm left wondering, WHO ON EARTH WILL EVEN WANT TO READ THIS ANYMORE? I mean, there are so many bigger, better, so-much-more-brilliant blogs out there, then why THIS? And then it's back to Kansas and Aerosmith and Avril's rendition of Knocking On Heaven's Door, which all just makes me sad all over again and I don't even know why.

There are SO many books out there I want to read. And plenty more are coming out. Like Amy Reed's Crazy, which I'm reading on Netgalley and which has pretty much wrecked my heart even though I'm only halfway in. I just wish I'd find the drive to talk about them again. And need to feel that what I say does matter. Even to one person.

It's ridiculous. I don't think I've ever moped so publicly. I don't know what's wrong with me but I felt the need to just get it out there. I mean, what the heck, at least the blog gets an update. Oh god. I could just ramble on and on and you could be there with your mouse hovering over the 'unfollow' button (I know there there isn't one, that you have to go a long way to get there, but still), unless you've done it already, and I wouldn't know where to stop. You know those frenzies you get into and you don't know how far they can just go on? Yeah, that.

Not pleasant.

Sigh.

Here's the thing: I don't know where I go from here. Like, if I've be back to responsible reader/writer/blogger ways. I have no freaking clue. Whether just getting this post out there will magically bring back my drive and all fine things along with it. Heck, I wish it would. And hell yeah, I'm gonna put in some sort of an effort to get things back into their rightful place. No promises, but try I will. I probably owe myself just that much. I think.

Ever found yourself in such a rut?

And just cos you stuck around - if you have - and witnessed this Blog Dance of Pathetico, I'll reward your eyes with something pleasant. Something waaaaaay more pleasant.


I hope you're having a good time :)

Saturday, April 28, 2012

Imaginary Girls

(Hardcover/Australian Paperback)
Imaginary Girls
by Nova Ren Suma
(Author blog)
Released: June 14th, '11
From Goodreads:
Chloe's older sister, Ruby, is the girl everyone looks to and longs for, who can't be captured or caged. When a night with Ruby's friends goes horribly wrong and Chloe discovers the dead body of her classmate London Hayes left floating in the reservoir, Chloe is sent away from town and away from Ruby.
But Ruby will do anything to get her sister back, and when Chloe returns to town two years later, deadly surprises await. As Chloe flirts with the truth that Ruby has hidden deeply away, the fragile line between life and death is redrawn by the complex bonds of sisterhood.
With palpable drama and delicious craft, Nova Ren Suma bursts onto the YA scene with the story that everyone will be talking about.

A word about the cover: That hardcover version is the Most. Brilliant. Cover. Ever. Period.
And that paperback below? Hauntingly creepy. But the hardcover wins, hands down.

My Thoughts:

This is quite possibly the most gorgeous book I've owned. I doubt I can be coherent at all while talking about this because, honestly, it blew my mind. Wow. Just WOW.

(Paperback)
If you ask me right now which author I so wish I could write like, I'd say Nova Ren Suma in a heartbeat. Not only is the writing oh-so-breathtaking, she blends it in with a story that will sometimes make your heart ache, sometimes put your heart in your mouth and hang on to you even months after you've read it (I speak from experience. Yes, it's been months that I've read it. I just didn't know how to talk about it. Still don't, but you get what I mean).

This is a story about sisters and obsession, about dead girls and lost towns, sibling love and sacrifice, destruction and resurrection. This is a story about magic. Magic that will make your toes curl yet keep you captivated. This is magic realism at it's best. The best I've read in years.

At it's heart, Imaginary Girls is a mystery. There's mystery in every page, in every character, in every action undertaken by a character. Ruby, Chloe's older sister, is perhaps the biggest mystery, which also makes her the most enticing character of all. Ruby is complex. So complex that sometimes sometimes it's scary. But she'll hold you entranced, like she holds Chloe and the rest of the town. Yet in spite of the power she wields, there will never be a time when you even remotely associate her with being bad. That's the kind of magic Suma crafts with Imaginary Girls. Her characters will make you wonder at their strangeness, yet you get where they are coming from. You might drown in the terror of the situation, yet you'll have your heartbroken in pages.

It isn't just the characters. The setting is stunning. I kid you not when I say it's perhaps the most vividly atmospheric novel I've read since Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights. The reservoir which holds a size-able amount of the mystery of Imaginary Girls takes on a life of it's own. It's so richly evocative, sometimes I felt myself drowning in it or listening to it breathe in the night, like Chloe did.

Imaginary Girls is the kind of book that is built on paradoxes. Of reality distorted to suit personal interests. The kind of book that manages to be both startlingly beautiful and hair-raisingly disturbing. The kind that makes you wonder what the author feeds on to have come out with such an extraordinary piece of work. The kind that makes you want to give out copies of it to every person you come across just so they can have a piece of its magic too. The kind that makes you pull out your pen or laptop, if only to make you aspire to create something as marvellous.

Do I recommend this? YES, YES AND A THOUSAND TIMES OVER. And then some more.

And just so I can make you a li'l jealous,

OWNED!
Author signed! See? :D
(I won this at a giveaway)

Glimpse a little of the magic through the trailer:



How often do you read magic realism?

Saturday, March 31, 2012

Tempest

Tempest
by Julie Cross
Released: 17th Jan, '12.

From Goodreads:
The year is 2009.  Nineteen-year-old Jackson Meyer is a normal guy… he’s in college, has a girlfriend… and he can travel back through time. But it’s not like the movies – nothing changes in the present after his jumps, there’s no space-time continuum issues or broken flux capacitors – it’s just harmless fun.
That is… until the day strangers burst in on Jackson and his girlfriend, Holly, and during a struggle with Jackson, Holly is fatally shot. In his panic, Jackson jumps back two years to 2007, but this is not like his previous time jumps. Now he’s stuck in 2007 and can’t get back to the future.
Desperate to somehow return to 2009 to save Holly but unable to return to his rightful year, Jackson settles into 2007 and learns what he can about his abilities.
But it’s not long before the people who shot Holly in 2009 come looking for Jackson in the past, and these “Enemies of Time” will stop at nothing to recruit this powerful young time-traveler.  Recruit… or kill him.
Piecing together the clues about his father, the Enemies of Time, and himself, Jackson must decide how far he’s willing to go to save Holly… and possibly the entire world.

A word about the cover: I don't know why but I really like the floaty-ness of it. (Is that weird?) Also, the photo is a little unusual for what has recently flooded the YA market (read: Sad Girls In Pretty Dresses). It makes me want to give it a second look.

My Thoughts:

The whole time-traveling shizz appeals to me a lot. I think that's the coolest possible super-power to have. I mean, what can you not do if you can travel through time? And lets face it: the premise of Tempest is actually very relatable. How many times have we thought if only I could turn back time when we lost a loved one? Me? Tons.

Tempest was a book I wanted to read, ever since I started following Julie's blog, right after she got her book deal, even before the book became the talking point across blogosphere.

It was..well, inventive. I was uber curious about what was happening and what was going to happen and if Jackson would really be able to save Holly and all those things that could make this book work. Unfortunately, it was also one of those books that you go through a page-flipping-frenzy mode for then promptly forget about (I didn't forget because I had to do this review, but you get the hint).

My problem mostly was with the characters - a shallow bunch of jerks with some wrong notions about certain things. Case in point: Holly's roommate is called a feminist - when she is very clearly a misandrist - and is dismissed as being a bitch along the same lines. And what does that imply? That a feminist is very easily a misandrist or that feminists are bitches? Because that's EXACTLY how it comes across.
Also, Jackson's reaction on getting to know that Holly is a virgin? He's worried about her and then goes -
The idea that she might not enjoy this was turning me in the other direction. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been with a virgin, even just messing around. Maybe never.
I mean, DUDE, seriously? Jackson's seventeen. And he has slept with so many people he doesn't even remember the last virgin he slept with? (At the same time we get to hear Holly call him 'deep'. I mean, SERIOUSLY?) I don't get moralising over books or anything but what really annoys me is Jackson's attitude here. So is he implying that being a virgin means you're all uptight and that it probably puts him off? Or is it that because somebody isn't a virgin it's okay to mess around with them?
And at the same time he's actually worried about Holly, huh? Contradictions, contradictions. Conclusively, Jackson ends up being typecast as the seemingly nice guy who is really a jerk underneath. Sadly, no character development there.
I call these characters jerks because there's no redemption, nowhere in the book do they regret such thoughts or realise what absolute jackasses they really are. All of it is as easily dismissed as it is brought on. Like this very dignified bit:
"I just met this chick last night at my friend's party. She's mega hot and a total airhead." "Exactly your type right?" "Yeah, but only if the flakiness is genuine. Not that pretend-I'm-stupid shit. You know it's going to bite you in the ass later. Besides, I love messing with people who just don't get it." 
Waaay. To. Go.

I had issues with Tempest throughout my reading experience of it. Maybe if I leave my own personal beliefs aside, maybe it could work. I mean, I loved the bits Jackson had with his sister Courtney. I think I was mostly in that page-flipping-frenzy mode just so I could get to the parts with/about her. But then, such personal beliefs can't really be pushed aside. I *am* a feminist and I cannot tolerate sexism and coming from a country where woman's position in society is a matter of argument every-freaking-day, reading about women being dismissed as easily as toilet paper makes me angry.

Yes, there are good things about the book. Like I said, Courtney. And it moves at breakneck speed inspite of the whole 'time-line' thing being highly confusing more often than not. And the last quarter of the book makes you feel a little bad for the main characters sometimes. It's not a bad book.

But, I don't know. With all those sexist ideas being dismissed as casual fun, it's not exactly making it to my list of good books.

Reading is subjective, right?
I know Tempest has/will have it's fair share of fans (heck, a movie's been optioned, too!). It's just that I'm not one of them.

Have you read Tempest? What's your favourite read on time travel?

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Waiting On Wednesday #4


Waiting On Wednesday is a weekly meme started by Jill @Breaking The Spine, where we talk about upcoming releases we just-can't-wait for.

This week I'm waiting for,

Hanging By A Thread
by Sophie Littlefield
Expected Publication - 11th Sepetember, 2012

From Goodreads:
Summer is the best part of the year in Winston, California, and the Fourth of July is the highlight of the season. But the perfect town Clare remembers has changed, and everyone is praying that this summer will be different from the last two—that this year's Fourth of July festival won't see one of their own vanish without a trace, leaving no leads and no suspects. The media are in a frenzy predicting a third disappearance, but the town depends on tourist dollars, so the residents of Winston are trying desperately to pretend nothing's wrong. 
And they're not the only ones hiding something. 
Clare, a seamstress who redesigns vintage clothing, has been blessed—or perhaps cursed—with a gift: she can see people's pasts when she touches their clothes. When she stumbles across a denim jacket that once belonged to Amanda Stavros, last year's Fourth of July victim, Clare sees her perfect town begin to come apart at the seams. 
In a town where appearance means everything, how deep beneath the surface will Clare dig to uncover a murderer?


Why I'm waiting for this:

Lets be honest - it's the cover that pulled me in for this one. Initially. I mean, WOW, LOOK AT THAT! Instant. Cover. Lust. And then the title. Oooh, prettiness.
But yeah, pretty covers are plenty. What really has my attention is the fact that the main character is a seamstress. Rolling your eyes, are we now? See, while the whole keeping-up-appearances and digging-beneath-the-surface is not a very uncommon theme - especially if you add a few murders alongside - vintage clothes definitely make things interesting. So, yes, I'm shallow, but how can I help it? Pretty things are so awesome. And dude, VINTAGE!

Of course, the murder and the town's secrets make things more exciting. Who doesn't love secrets? And here's a town-full of them. This one's got plenty to draw me in right now.

I mean, seriously, LOOK AT THAT - *drools over cover*

- so, uh, what's making YOU drool this week?


PS. Also, I went for a second watch of The Hunger Games. Go, Team Seneca Crane's beard!

Saturday, March 24, 2012

The Hunger Games. OMFG.

Yes. It happened.
I watched. The first show in the city, in the wee hours of the morning.
Did you? Did you? 15+ hours later, I'm still overwhelmed.

And...WOW. It was SO good. The book came alive and there was Katniss with her bow and arrow and the Capitol and - OH SHUCKS, I'M JUST GONNA LIST IT COS I CAN'T HELP IT. (This might get spoiler-ish, so be warned).

  • JENNIFER LAWRENCE. She was born to be Katniss. No exaggeration. How could I EVER doubt her? She was amazing. I can't imagine anyone else taking her place. Oh God. I think I'm pretty much in love with her. Who cares about the boys - yes, they were delectable, but heck, TEAM KATNISS!
  • The Capitol and it's clothes. It was like an avant-garde rainbow parade. And holy moly, THOSE EYELASHES.
  • Effie's appearance reminded me of the Queen of Hearts from Alice In Wonderland. Elizabeth Banks is a delight to watch. I was a little bummed that she wasn't as despicable as I found her to be in the first book, but, oh well, she's very watch-worthy.
  • If beards can give you boners, watch out for Seneca Crane's. His is the shizzle. And that scene with him in the end? Perfection. I wish he didn't have to die, so I could drool over his beard some more. (WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?*shakes head*)
  • Also, WHO KNEW CATO WOULD BE SUCH HOTNESS? By God, the Witch Mountain kid grew up and how. Major. Swoon. Alert.
  • I was wrong about Josh Hutcherson. He made an adorable Peeta. I wanted to bring him home with me the entire time. And he should go blond permanently.

  • Liam Hemsworth as Gale? STUDMUFFIN. Keep that black hair dye on. You lucky girl, Miley!
  • And no, I'm not going to go into the whole Team thing 'cos I like both boys but I also think Katniss made the right choice. The only thing that bothered me about the movie is that Real/For show love between Katniss and Peeta didn't seem to be emphasized upon much. A non-reader of the books could easily miss the fact that Haymitch uttered a couple of words about putting on a 'show of love' to  make an impression on the sponsors and the gamemakers. I thought that was a very important aspect of the Katiniss-Peeta relationship - how that Love For Show becomes Love For Reals - so the underplaying of that was a little, um...jarring? If I think of it independent of the book, though - which I can't, the obsessive fan that I am - I guess it works well.
  • I bawled my eyes out when Rue died. My brother cried, too, I know, although he had his hands over his face. A 15 year old boy crying in the theatre should tell you there was a lot of perfection involved in the shooting of the scene, in spite of the whole thing about the little kid dying being so very, very wrong.
  • The other tributes? I don't know how many times I have to repeat the word 'perfection' in this post. Yes, that. Special toast for the Careers. You've gotta agree they've got style.
  • District 12 and Katniss' home. EXACTLY how it should've been.
  • Yes, there were a few things I would've liked to see. Like, you know, Madge. Even though she's probably not that important but - she gave Katniss the mockingjay pin! And that had a lot of significance which was kinda lacking in the movie. Umm, yeah. And I thought that President Snow would be more sinister and not look like a dystopian-Dumbledore-with-a-shorter-beard. And Haymitch would be, well...drunker. STILL. It turned out to be a really good movie with a cast of uber-talented actors. And guess, what? I, for one, cannot wait for Catching Fire. (also, that happens to be my favourite book of the series).
So.
Have you watched it yet? Are you going to?

On a drool-worthy note, I'm gonna leave you with a photo of the beautiful cast of tribute when they aren't at each other's throats. Psssst, look at that sexy blond in the middle!

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Waiting On Wednesday (#3)


Waiting On Wednesday is a weekly meme started by Jill @Breaking The Spine, where we talk about upcoming releases we just-can't-wait for.

This week's wait is for,

Breaking Beautiful
by Jennifer Shaw Wolf
Expected Publication - 24th April, 2012

From Goodreads:Allie lost everything the night her boyfriend, Trip, died in a horrible car accident—including her memory of the event. As their small town mourns his death, Allie is afraid to remember because doing so means delving into what she’s kept hidden for so long: the horrible reality of their abusive relationship.When the police reopen the investigation, it casts suspicion on Allie and her best friend, Blake, especially as their budding romance raises eyebrows around town. Allie knows she must tell the truth. Can she reach deep enough to remember that night so she can finally break free? Debut writer Jennifer Shaw Wolf takes readers on an emotional ride through the murky waters of love, shame, and, ultimately, forgiveness. 


Why I'm waiting for this:

First off: Even without reading the book summary, there's something about the book title that is achingly sad. And the kind of masochistic reader that I am, I'm inevitably attracted to books that break my heart, and yeah, the name says. it. all.

Then, the summary. The whole death of a boy/girl you love hits really close to home and makes it an automatic must-get read. Add to that a secret that can't come out, it becomes a must-get-NOW read.

And I can be called biased for this but JENNIFER SHAW WOLF IS A DEBUT AUTHOR! And I lurrrve first novels and first-time authors. The whole discovering-a-new-voice thing is right up there on my list of Things That Give Me A Personal High. So, that.

I don't know how or when I'm gonna get a copy of this in my hands - considering I live under a rock and as usual I'm pretty much broke at the moment and April's not that far off - but I sure hope someone benevolent sees this and oh, I don't know, maybe surprises me with this as an April Gift (gifts are all year round, right?).

Oh well, a girl can hope.
And a broke one can hope some more.

What are you reading or waiting for right now?

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

In which I come back with news.

Don't even ask me about that unexplained hiatus.
I have no idea what happened. Or...wait, maybe I do. You know those days when things just start happening and happen so much they just can't stop? Well, THAT happened. Life did. It turns out that I now find myself knee-deep in a thing I didn't even see coming, with a Boy who wasn't even on the List (you know, one that consists of Tom Felton and the Winchester brothers and all those pretty boys on tv) and well, it's been craaazy. This would've kinda made for an interesting high school story, except for the fact that we are both in university. Teehee.

ANYWHO. Enough with the personal talk. Like I said, I have news. Tra-la.

Firstly, guys, guys, guys. Remember that cover contest all of you helped me with? The one where you helped me choose one among several covers I made for Holly Cupala's Don't Breathe A Word? Not once but TWICE? Guess what, all your amazing input went into making me win that contest. And this was my first cover contest in, like, ever. THANK YOU! I wish I could send you guys something, all of you, to show how grateful I am for all your help, but, alas, being a poor college student has it's disadvantages. But, really, if it means anything at all, thank YOU.

So you wanna see what I got?


So that's a copy of Don't Breathe A Word and an audio book of Tell Me A Secret and bookmarks and a graphic novel excerpt and um, stickers? Because of you guys, I now own an audio book. My first one ever. I'm not even kidding.
The best part?

Yes, personally signed! Gotta love that. And Holly's got such nice handwriting, hasn't she? *cuddles book*

In other news, which you must all be aware of by now, unless you've been living under a rock, JK ROWLING HAS A NEW BOOK! (that's just one of the many links Google will take you to if you simply type in 'J.K. Rowling'). So we don't know much about the book, but we know something. We know that:

  • it's NOT Harry Potter
  • it's an adult novel
  • it will be published by Little, Brown
  • more details will be revealed later in the year
godimsoexcitedidontevenknowwhattodorightnow*wringshands*itcrazyohmygodohmygodohmygodthequeenofmychildhoodiscomingbackinmyadulthood!

Also, Maureen Johnson (yes, our very own Maureen Johnson) wrote an amazing article in the guardian asking naysayers to dispose their doubts about THE bestselling children's writer venturing into adult territory. I mean, c'mon, you can't really expect another Harry Potter, but don't put her down before you even know what she's coming up with this time. OH GOD, I'M SO EXCITED. *does jagger dance* (don't laugh, okay? i know you're laughing. stop. STOP)

Moving on (ohmyfreakinggodrowlinghasanewnovel!).
*deep breath*
My friend from college, Paro has a new blog! I've known her for more than 3 years now and she's a wonderful person, a lot of fun to talk to and by god, just look at Leafturner Tales! Isn't it cute? She's brand, brand new to the blogging world and she's already gathered some followers (because she's awesome that way), but it would be wicked cool of you guys to head that way and say 'hi'. Show her how awesome and nice the blogosphere is :)

Random:


(so did the oscars go according to your prediction?)

Also, I came across this one on my aunt's Facebook profile and it made me smile ;)


and, it's 25 DAYS TILL THE HUNGER GAMES!
*hyperventilates*
ohgodohgodohgod

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Waiting On Wednesday (#2)


Waiting On Wednesday is a weekly meme started by Jill @Breaking The Spine, where we talk about upcoming releases we just-can't-wait for.

This week I'm waiting for - oh, screw it - this I MUST INSANELY ACQUIRE -

This Is Not A Test
by Courtney Summers
Expected Publication - 19th June, 2012

From Goodreads:
It’s the end of the world. Six students have taken cover in Cortege High but shelter is little comfort when the dead outside won’t stop pounding on the doors. One bite is all it takes to kill a person and bring them back as a monstrous version of their former self. To Sloane Price, that doesn’t sound so bad. Six months ago, her world collapsed and since then, she’s failed to find a reason to keep going. Now seems like the perfect time to give up. As Sloane eagerly waits for the barricades to fall, she’s forced to witness the apocalypse through the eyes of five people who actually wantto live. But as the days crawl by, the motivations for survival change in startling ways and soon the group’s fate is determined less and less by what’s happening outside and more and more by the unpredictable and violent bids for life—and death—inside. When everything is gone, what do you hold on to?


Why I'm waiting for this:

Dude, it's COURTNEY SUMMERS! Need I say more?

And okay, lets be honest, I'm not particularly fond of zombies, but HAVE YOU READ THE EXCERPT SHE SHARED? No? Go. Read. It. Now.

Her writing is so haunting, and well...it reads like an edgy contemporary - more focus on the characters, less focus on the zombies. Which totally makes it my kinda read.

Also, this is about a girl who wants to die. And if you've read any Courtney Summers, you'd know that she specialises in troubled characters. And she does them brilliantly.

And that cover? All that hair matted with blood and those sprinkled drops up there and all that blue? This is possibly the best cover of the year yet.

That's a book I desperately want to hold in my hands.

What are you waiting for?

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Waiting On Wednesday (#1)

So, I've decided to join the bandwagon and do a weekly meme.
I like the concept of Waiting On Wednesday (started by Jill from Breaking the Spine) because:
  • featuring books that I so-can't-wait-for seems like fun.
  • I get to talk about more books!
  • you get to hear about more books!
  • and...well, I'll have a weekly something to look forward to posting. Without fail :)
...and therefore, you see, this is the perfect thing to do every week. Hope you'll stick around.

This week I'm waiting for -

Pilgrims Don't Wear Pink
by Stephanie Kate Strohm
Expected publication - May, 2012

From the author's website:
Libby Kelting had always felt herself born out of time. No wonder the historical romance-reading, Jane Austen-adaptation-watching, all-around history nerd jumped at the chance to intern at Camden Harbor, Maine’s Oldest Living History Museum. But at Camden Harbor Libby’s just plain out of place, no matter how cute she looks in a corset. Her cat-loving coworker wants her dead, the too-smart-for-his-own-good local reporter keeps pushing her buttons, her gorgeous sailor may be more shipwreck than dreamboat — plus Camden Harbor’s haunted. Over the course of one unforgettable summer, Libby learns that boys, like ghosts, aren’t always what they seem.

Why I'm waiting for this:

Firstly, I was sold at 'Jane Austen-adaptation-watching'. I mean, I like Ms. Austen's books a lot, but I think I like the screen adaptations even more. I don't give a damn about how the critics rate them, they function like pick-me-ups and are hugely entertaining. Plus, the men are swoony.



Secondly, there's a museum and CAMDEN HARBOR IS HAUNTED! So ghosts. I love ghosts! Especially in contemporaries where they make a guest appearance. I mean, seriously, what's not to love?

Thirdly, see those other characters mentioned? I *want* to read about them. I want to read about the hostile coworker, the supersmart reporter and the pretty sailor. Wait...what?! A sailor? Where did he come from? WHY AREN'T THERE MORE BOOKS WITH SAILORS? Authors, are you listening?

The moment I came across this book on one of my lurk-sprees, I almost sang out. This book is for me, me, me. It sounds fun and quirky and there's Jane Austen and ghosts and - oh damn, I need this right away.

What are you waiting for?

Monday, February 6, 2012

Drowning Instinct

Drowning Instinct
by Ilsa J Bick
Released: 1st Feb, '12.
From Goodreads:
There are stories where the girl gets her prince, and they live happily ever after. (This is not one of those stories.) 
Jenna Lord's first sixteen years were not exactly a fairytale. Her father is a controlling psycho and her mother is a drunk. She used to count on her older brother—until he shipped off to Afghanistan. And then, of course, there was the time she almost died in a fire. 
There are stories where the monster gets the girl, and we all shed tears for his innocent victim. (This is not one of those stories either.) 
Mitch Anderson is many things: A dedicated teacher and coach. A caring husband. A man with a certain...magnetism. 
And there are stories where it's hard to be sure who's a prince and who's a monster, who is a victim and who should live happily ever after. (These are the most interesting stories of all.) 
Drowning Instinct is a novel of pain, deception, desperation, and love against the odds—and the rules.

A word about the cover: For some reason, one glance at the cover made me think this was a paranormal. Of course, I hadn't read the book description or anything then. And, well...I passed it up, because I wasn't really in the mood for a paranormal. After reading the description, though, my reaction went along the lines of Holy shit! How could I pass up THIS book? Now that I look at it, I think the cover captures the mood of the book rather well. I mean, to me, it kinda looks like the girl has just washed her face after a run and that's...significant. You know what I mean? No? Well, find out.


My Thoughts:


Drowning Instinct is one of those books that can't exactly be summed up in a review. But there are certain things I can tell you. Like,

  • While the book description tells you a few things, it doesn't prepare you with expectations. At least for me, it didn't. Which means, that the experience that Drowning Instinct packs within those pages, may, in plain-speak, blow your mind.
  • There's self harm and all kinds of abuse and other twisted things that will take you to dark places and make you squirm and keep you awake at night. And keep you thinking. Thinking is always a good thing, right?
  • Surprises. There are lots of them. Sometimes these are small bumpy ones, sometimes they are roller-coaster-plunge worthy-ish. Either way, it's a ride.
  • If you have expectations from Jenna Lord, dump them with the garbage. Jenna Lord is not a very reliable narrator. She might also be insane. Mostly though, you won't be able to forget her.
  • Even before the threads of the relationship - yes, that forbidden relationship - manifest, you will be saying, oh no no no no no, don't even go there! back off! But then, long past those early scenes, somewhere in the middle of the story you will probably wonder if you said that 'back off' out of concern or jealousy.
  • Oftentimes, especially in the latter half of the book, you will think how very twisted Mitch Anderson is and will want to scream What is up with that man?! Sooner or later, that might alternate with Why can't I have that man?! Oh, yes, Mitch Anderson in inexplicably swoon-worthy.
  • While the rest of the book will probably keep you in page-flipping-frenzy mode, the last quarter will make you hyperventilate alongside. But be careful. If things get too serious, remember you can't really blame your medical condition on a book.
  • Soon you might stop breathing.
  • Then, you'll probably experience an overwhelming outpouring of emotions.
  • Later, you will be wondering who was to blame. If anyone was to blame. What you condoned and what you disapproved. If you even have the right to. What was right and what went wrong. If you are even in a position to judge. If you can even point a finger at anybody. The dilemma won't really leave you with an answer.
Then again, this story is not only about Jenna and Mr. Anderson. There are several more players, each with their own desperate obsessions, twisted pasts and existence of half-truths.
Primarily though, Drowning Instinct is a story that weaves through the lives of broken people looking for something to grasp on to, before they drown in the desolation of their own existence. It is also incredibly brilliant.

It shouldn't come as a surprise that it somersaulted straight up my favourites list.

What upcoming release do you want to drown in?

Friday, February 3, 2012

This is me...+ contest winner

This is me right now:


And, naturally, it's not been pleasant. 
So I've been looking at things like this:


And these:



...and alternately laughing and swooning and snickering.

Anyway.
Remember the New Year contest I had throughout Jan? Well, it's time to announce the winner.
So, the e-copy of Kelley York's HUSHED (review here) goes to....

                                                         *drumroll*

                                                       Emily R. King

Congrats, Emily. You will be hearing from me soon.

As for the rest of you guys?
Thanks for being so amazing.
You're ALL superstars.

.....and now I shall go back to talking to the ceiling.

Tuesday, January 31, 2012

May B.


May B.
by Caroline Starr Rose
Released: January, 2012.
From Goodreads:
May is helping out on a neighbor's Kansas prairie homestead—just until Christmas, says Pa. She wants to contribute, but it's hard to be separated from her family by 15 long, unfamiliar miles. Then the unthinkable happens: May is abandoned. Trapped in a tiny snow-covered sod house, isolated from family and neighbors, May must prepare for the oncoming winter. While fighting to survive, May's memories of her struggles with reading at school come back to haunt her. But she's determined to find her way home again. Caroline Starr Rose's fast-paced novel, written in beautiful and riveting verse, gives readers a strong new heroine to love.


My Thoughts:

Verse is the most beautiful form of writing EVER. Seriously. Prose can be made beautiful but anything that verse touches is instantly beautified.  It's easy to go wrong with verse, but if you get it right, the result is nothing short of dazzling.

Caroline Starr Rose's May B. is one such beautiful novel. The verse is stylistic, yet simplistic and makes for a read that is oh-so-compelling, it begs to be completed quickly. And that's easy, because it is fast paced and May's voice is very engaging.

May's resilience is arguably the best thing about this novel. She is so young and it hurts to read about her struggles. Her struggle with her reading disability that brings out her insecurities before sniggering classmates and a very discouraging teacher. Her struggles with the downsides of being a girl in the 19th century, witnessing her brother get the little privileges she is denied. Struggles with being separated from her family, then being abandoned in the midst of nowhere and having to face nature's fury by herself. Her struggle for survival. 

Most of the time I just wanted to give her a hug. And it broke my heart that there wasn't anyone to give her that. Seriously, this girl needed it. But the thing about May B. is that in spite of being severed off from known civilisation and having to do without any human companionship, she has a quiet strength, a fighting spirit that manifests itself against all odds. It's empowering and it unfurls itself not dramatically, but gradually.

I liked how the author juxtaposes May's struggle with dyslexia with the challenges imposed by the approaching winter. The setting, infact, is brilliant. I could literally hear the blizzard. And it terrified me. That says a lot about the author's skill, doesn't it?

Caroline Starr Rose's May B. could be called an adventure tale featuring a very brave and unusual heroine, that makes for a heartwarming and enduring read. Whether verse is your thing or not, I recommend this.

How often do you pick up a verse novel?


Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Graphic Novel Spotlight: Princess Reborn - Chapter 1

Princess Reborn: Chapter 1 (Graphic Novel)
by Lee Tidball

Lari’s puzzled. What’s Mom’s secret? And could it have anything to do with Lari’s, secret? Lari’s family will never be the same again when an unspeakable evil is unleashed on the world. a dark nemesis from mom’s phantom past, bent on ruling and revenge. The world will stand helpless against it. 
The time for heroes has come again. One must be born, though she has no idea who she is. And the other must, against all odds, be REBORN.




This is the first graphic novel I'm featuring on my blog.


I don't read as much of them as I'd like to. Although Neil Gaiman's graphic novel version of Coraline will always be a favourite.
Princess Reborn is a superhero story. And even better? Female superheroes. We don't get to see much of them as their male counterparts, do we? So this immediately scored brownie points for that. 

It's a very slim novel and considering that it's a graphic novel, a quick one, too. 

Seventh grader Lari has always suspected there's something strange about her mother, who has maintained a discreetness about her past ever since she can remember. What Lari doesn't realise is that there are bigger secrets and conspiracies at work than she can imagine. And it all builds up to a pulse-racing climax. 

I cannot elaborate much for fear of giving anything crucial away. And there's a lot of that - crucial details. 

Princess Reborn: Chapter 1 is filled with action, suspense and a lot of excitement from start to finish. It is very well illustrated and structured - which means that I didn't have trouble following the conversation bubbles which I sometimes have. I think the illustrations capture the action sequences particularly well. 

The only thing that frustrated me is the ending. It ends on such a cliffhanger. And I'm not a fan of the big cliffhangers. They bug me to no end. I guess the fact that this is just 'Chapter 1' implies there's a long adventure to come and I have to wait for Chapter 2 before I get the answers to at least some of the questions raised. 

Overall, this was fun to read. I let my 14 year old brother read it after me. He enjoyed it and called it 'exciting'. So if you are a graphic novel nerd or know someone who is, here's a new recommendation to consider picking up next time you have hours to kill :) 


Author website
Goodreads
Amazon <-- there's an excerpt available here, if you're interested.

Do you read graphic novels?

Friday, January 20, 2012

The Review Debacle

(I have a lot to say, so bear with me)

This has been going on far too long. I think every year there comes a time when the eternal debate of whether authors/aspiring authors should be book reviewers too comes up. This generally sparks off several more posts regarding reviews (blogger reviews, to be specific) and how positive or negative they should or shouldn't be. And it's alright to have these discussions. That's why we are human beings. We have the power to reason and discuss, test and explore new ideas. And every year we have some very interesting discussions on said topics, which leave us with greater understanding of things, even if our fundamental beliefs remain unchanged.

This time, though, something went wrong. Something spiraled beyond discussions and took on an ugliness of its own - where certain authors ganged up on certain reviewers, certain agents conspired with certain authors to rig the review rating system on Goodreads and Amazon, mudslinging and bitch-slamming in public took place - it's been one hot mess after another.

And it's been very, very disappointing. This is NOT the book world as I know it. The book world I've grown to love and respect is the one where writers and reviewers and readers co-exist in harmony - occasionally going to tea with the Mad Hatter and the March Hare, engaging in Wildean witty banter, tipping their hats to each other when they gather at book clubs or pen clubs (where they brainstorm ideas. This doesn't officially exist by that name). There are differences of opinions, yes. As long as there will be people there will be opinions and everyone has a different opinion and everyone's entitled to it. But this is done with a respect for each other, with the thought that - 'Yes, I understand that's what you think about me/about this book and while I don't necessarily agree with you, I appreciate your thoughts'.

Unfortunately, that's the ideal. Which obviously, also makes it unreal. The ugly truth of it is that somewhere that line between public and private has been crossed and dirty linen is being washed in full view of the rest of the world.

I mean, look at us. I'm assuming (and rightly so) that we are all literature lovers here. And literature preserves the ideals of humanity. It's supposed to give us a better understanding of life. Supposed to sensitize us to people and their situations. Of all people, we, readers and lovers of literature should know that jumping at each other's throats is not the way to go about things. And creators of literature? You should know better.

My biggest dream is to be a published author. I want to hold a book in my hands, which has a shiny new cover and my name on its spine. A book that people will want to read and hopefully, some of them will love a little. Yes, that's what I really hope happens someday.

But you know what? I was a reader first. It's my love for reading, for books, that made me want to be a writer. I love talking about them, what they made me and didn't make me feel. What worked and what didn't work for me. Would I be reading it again or would I be putting it aside? I like the process of reviewing, evaluating a book and then interacting with fellow readers and getting to know their thoughts on said book.

But when someone tells me that by putting forward my honest thoughts about a book I may as well be killing off my future career as an author, that disappoints me. You're asking me to choose between my love and my dream. I ask you: WHY? Why does it have to be a choice between either? I understand that the writers of the books I don't fangirl over might become my colleagues when/if I do get published, so it might get awkward, but whether I deal with it by simply deleting all reviews I've written or not, is entirely my decision. If I'm not mistaken, whether or not I become published or not depends entirely on my own merit and not because I may not have liked a book by a fellow author and publicly said so. Unless there's a conspiracy of some sort brewing in the industry.

Which brings me to a post by a certain very well-respected author that saddened me a great deal. The author made some interesting points but it all boiled down to her perception that book bloggers aren't real reviewers. That, I vehemently disagree with.

Now, guys.
I understand where she's coming from. She talks about jerk-fests - personal attacks that come under the guise of reviews. That is wrong. That is just very, very wrong. Yes, we live in a free world (at least most of us do) and we are allowed freedom of speech (at least, till now) but that's NOT to be exploited. Reviews that go: "Oh jeez, I think this author wrote this book simply to annoy me! She should be locked up in an asylum and that goddamned book should be barbecued!" NO. That is NOT how book reviews should go, no matter how much you hate a book. Be snarky, yes, use funny gifs, have a good laugh - heck, yes, that's fine - but you cross the line at cruelty and meanness. I get that. And I'm totally against it.

But what I don't get is the distinction she makes between paid reviews and unpaid ones. Between how real the professional reviews (say, ones that appear in The Guardian and the New York Times and other literary publications) and how not real the unprofessional reviews (say, on Goodreads and book blogs) are. I mean, seriously? That's like saying that books that don't win awards aren't real books.
Blogger reviews are NOT all jerk-fests that take potshots at the author's personal life. NO. They probably comprise only 2% of the blogosphere. So clubbing every blog reviewer under the 'jerks' umbrella is biased and wrong.

The author also says:
Let's talk about the negative "reviews" that authors have been lashing out at. They often involve animated gifs, swearing, and snark. They're often quite funny. But here's the thing, though. When a blogger writes a biased, hilarious, snarky rundown of a book they despised, he/ she is not writing a review. They are writing a post about a book. I'm not saying that bloggers shouldn't write biased, hilarious, snarky rundowns of books. I'm saying that those rundowns are not reviews. Bloggers who regularly write them cannot expect to garner the same respect and treatment from authors that pro reviewers or non-pro reviewers do. They can't expect authors to read their posts and learn something from them. And they cannot expect authors to not take it personally. They've made it personal. 
Um, hello - WHAT?
So because they are informal, these are not reviews? I don't get it. How I evaluate is book is entirely up to me. And what's the deal about these being personal? DUDE, art is personal. Everything about art is personal. There can't ever be anything such as looking at a book 'objectively'. I mean, how can it? The way you respond to a book is entirely yours. You and I might love a book but on a deeper level, in almost all probability we love it for very different reasons. EVERY REVIEW IS SUBJECTIVE. It is personal, because it it about how I personally feel about the book. Irrespective of whether or not I mention the 'I' in my reviews, it's omnipresent. It would be ridiculous to suggest otherwise.

I realise it's very hard to let your book - your sweat and blood and tears - out there and watch other people take a swing at it, but that's what happens when you go public with your work. If you want the fangirls, you have to accept the non-fangirls as well. You are allowed to be secretly angry with them but don't lash out at them. Don't demean the bloggers who are putting forth a thought on your book because of their love of reading, irrespective of which way their opinions might swing. I stumbled upon this blogger's post while writing this. Go read it. It's more articulate than I can be at this point.

As for the reviewers, you're allowed to be honest. You're allowed your opinions. You're allowed to like or dislike a book (don't let anyone threaten you otherwise) but be careful not to turn that dislike into a personal attack. Don't. Do. That.

Guys. Look at us. We're Literature lovers. All of us. Lets not indulge in such pettiness. It's unbecoming and savage and puts Literature to shame.

We are all doing something we love. Bring on the respect, guys. And be a sport.
 
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