Collected Works of Jeffrey Archer in One Big Ass Book

Kane and Abel; The Prodigal Daughter; Not a Penny More, Not a Penny Less; and A Quiver Full of Arrows, collected works of Jeffrey Archer, 1987, Doubleday & Co. Genre: Fiction (A Quiver Full of Arrows is collected short fiction). 923 flipping pages. Finished 8/11/2010.

Note from the LesBlog Editorial Board: The LesBlog Editorial Board apologizes for the delay in reviews of late. For not only is this the Longest Book Ever Written, but our main reviewer was busy Falling in Love during the reading of the Longest Book Ever Written. Needless to say, we've had more important things on our mind.

LesOpinion: This unwieldy collection of Jeffrey Archer's early works is a misguided attempt to collect the author's freshman oeuvres into a giant tome with print so small it takes a magnifying glass to read it in the hope that it would make it seem like the quality of Literature that simply cries out to be anthologized for posterity. Don't shit a shitter, Mr. Publisher, Mr. Archer may tell a good story, but it's the same story over and over: the tale of rich people, high falutin' educations, and games of financial one upsmanship, all of it begging the question, "how often can one beat a dead horse and still be thought original?"

The Fixer Upper

The Fixer Upper, Mary Kay Andrews, 2009 Harper Collins. Genre: Chick Lit. 419 pages. Finished 7/7/2010.

LesOpinion: Chick lit, that's Mary Kay Andrews's specialty. Like Savannah Breeze, this latest novel is just a pleasant way to spend a summer day. In fact, this is a novel so small you'll forget it within hours of reading it.

Special Note to Mary Kay Andrews Regarding the use of Gay People to Spice Up Your Plot: Think you can jazz up an otherwise formulaic novel with a lesbian subplot that ultimately fizzles out and just makes lesbians look pathetic and lonely in comparison with straight people, whose lives are more complete and real? Yeah, well, don't.

Egrets to the Flames

Egrets to the Flames, Barbara Anton, 2007, Oceanview Publishing. Genre: Fiction. 301 pages. Finished 6/27/2010.

LesOpinion: I'm about to speak ill of the dead. The author of this crappy novel, Barbara Anton, died in 2007. Have mercy on her soul, dear lord, and forgive me for what I'm about to say.

Anton was a prolific playwright who should have resisted the urge to branch out. She is incapable of writing expository transition between episodes of dialogue, comes from the Reverend Alcorn School of Gratuitous Plot Twists, and has created a shamefully racist portrait of an African American maid reduced to the shuffling stereotypical house mammy (with her "full lips hanging in a pout" and "cower[ing] in the hall, eyes wide, hands trembling"). She even has a Japanese character who says "Ah so." I shit you not.

If I were stuck on a desert island with this book, at least I'd have 301 sheets of toilet paper.

Darwin's Wink

Darwin's Wink, Alison Anderson, St Martin's Press, 2004. Genre: Fiction. 276 pages. Finished 6/24/2010.

LesOpinion: Finding books like Darwin's Wink on the shelves restores my faith in the Library Quest. It's proof that a book I would otherwise overlook might not only be a wonderful discovery, but it can even make up for the other drivel I endure along the way.

Darwin's Wink doesn't sound like much on the surface: it's a love story centered on two naturalists trying to save rare birds off the coast of Mauritius. But it's not the story--as compelling and heartbreaking as it is--that carries the book. It's the prose. Anderson is a gifted writer with a distinct rhythm and impeccable insight.

One of about a bazillion good quotes: "Fran is hard. She has forgotten softness but is no stranger to it; she despises weakness and misinterprets the nature of of softness."

Do yourself a favor, Gentle Reader, and curl up with this book on your next vacation.

Three More Lousy Novels by Evelyn Anthony

The Legend, Evelyn Anthony, 1969, Coward-McCann. Genre: Romantic Suspense. 254 pages. Finished 6/3/2010.

Exposure, Evelyn Anthony, 1994, HarperCollins. Genre: Romantic Suspense. 277 pages. Finished 6/15/2010.

The Scarlet Thread, Evelyn Anthony, 1990, Harper & Row. Genre: Romantic Suspense. 327 pages. Finished 6/19/2010.

LesOpinion: Never have I come so close to abandoning the Library Quest, gentle reader, as I did slogging through these three woman-hating novels. You'll remember Evelyn Anthony as the author of Clandara. A few weeks ago I was ready to forgive Anthony for thinking that the coupling of stupid women and abusive men was romantic--she was, after all, writing in 1963. I held out hope that the author would overcome her self-loathing by the 1990's and maybe create a female character with half a personality who wouldn't fall head over heels for an abusive, murdering dickweed. Alas, Anthony's more recent heroines (if you could call them that) are as puling, big breasted, and vacuous as those of 30 years ago.

A sign these and other books like them are going to be awful: As my friend Allison pointed out, it's never good when the author's name appears in larger type on the front of the book than the book's title. When that happens, you know you just bought a one-way ticket to Crapville.

Clandara

Clandara, Evelyn Anthony, 1963, Doubleday & Co. Genre: Historical Fiction. 324 pages. Finished 6/2/2010.

LesOpinion: If you were faced with a book described on its yellowed dust jacket from 1963 as "a novel of love and rebellion in eighteenth-century Scotland" how eager would you be to dive right in? My thoughts exactly.

Set against the backdrop of Prince Charles Edward Stuart's ill-fated return to Scotland in 1745 to reclaim the throne and make the Catholics happy again, the book tells the tale of star-crossed lovers Katherine Fraser and James "the MacDonald" MacDonald. The Fraser and MacDonald clans have been involved in a feud that makes the Hatfields and McCoys seem like bosom buddies. The MacDonald, he freely admits, is a murderer and a rapist (he has locked whole families of Fraser farmers in their barns and burned them alive, but only after raping the women for good measure). Good news! The lovely Katherine, we learn, can overlook little character quirks like psychopathy.

There's a good bit of 1963-level bodice-ripping ("his body reaching its triumph within hers"), charging steeds, and even a few sword fights thrown in for good measure. It's a little overlong on bringing James and Katherine together, and honestly, James was so repulsive I ended up hoping for his death every time he came near a sharp object. Alas, 'twas not to be.

The kind of dick James is that was probably sexy in 1963: "He did not like women to do anything at all except accommodate him when and where he felt like it, to ask no questions and make no demands."

Vinegar Hill

Vinegar Hill, E. Manette Ansay, 1994, Viking. Genre: Fiction. 240 pages. Finished 5/30/2010.

LesOpinion: Some books are stories; some books are works of art. Vinegar Hill is a hymn in a minor key, beautifully written, compact, and forlorn. Do not read this book on a rainy day, in the depths of your own personal discord, or thinking that when author Amy Tan called it "Little House on the Prairie gone mad" she was implying it would be mad-funny.

Quote that proves my point: "She tries to feel the smugness of faith, to know she is important and that her life has great, if hidden, meaning. But the more she has tried to claim God, the more He has rejected her. She wants to be lost in Him, but He vomits her out again and again...."

Savannah Breeze

Savannah Breeze, Mary Kay Andrews, 2006, HarperCollins. Genre: Chick Lit. 431 pages. Finished 5/29/2010.

LesOpinion: Like a good summer movie, this book is cool, mindless entertainment that only lasts for a few hours. It has no great themes or even memorable characters, but it's still a good romp. My only complaint is that most of the book is told in first person from the main character's perspective. Except for the very occasional chapters when it's told in first person from a secondary character's perspective. The problem is that both characters are women and their "voice" is exactly alike and they show up in each other's chapters, making it easy to forget which narrator was which. But, let's be honest, this doesn't exactly spell the end of Western civilization, does it?

Midas

Midas, Russell Andrews, 2005, Mysterious Books. Genre: Political Thriller. 371 pages. Finished 5/26/2010.

LesOpinion: This is a fair-to-middling political thriller that conspiracy theorizes terrorist attacks in the U.S. that are made to look like the work of foreign operatives, but that are, in fact, the work of nefarious high-ranking government officials with oil interests. If you've ever harbored a sneaking suspicion that Bush administration officials arranged the 9/11 terrorist attacks, this is the book for you. If you just like fair-to-middling political thrillers, this is also the book for you. I liked it for one reason: I've never before seen the phrase "shit fit" in print (as in "The town council would have had a shit fit."). I thought it was just something my mother used to say.

The real reason to dislike this book: not only is the author wearing sunglasses in his photo, but his bio also says that "Russell Andrews" is a pseudonym for Peter Gethers. I submit that publicly announcing that you're writing under a pseudonym defeats the purpose of having a pseudonym. I suspect Mr. Gethers has a rich, mildly disturbing fantasy life.

Heyday

Heyday, Kurt Andersen, Random House, 2007. Genre: Historical Fiction. 620 pages. Finished 5/20/2010.

LesOpinion: The Library Quest is beset with a theme, Gentle Reader: this is the 3rd book in 22 (that's nearly 14% for those of you trying to do the math in your head) that has set at least part of its story in gold rush-era San Francisco.

In Heyday, Andersen goes to great lengths to bring 1840's London, Paris, New York, middle America, and California to life. From fashion to vernacular, from science to revolution, this is a meticulous look at popular culture through the eyes of four young Americans and Britons setting out for the frontier in search of a utopian society...or gold...or both. Along with the war, politics, sleaze, and adventures, Andersen throws in casual encounters with celebrities from Darwin to de Tocqueville without making any of it feel contrived. It's a big, fat, fun, literate book that manages to be epic without containing a single enigmatic Chinaman.

speak

speak, Laurie Halse Anderson, Penguin Putnam, 1999. Genre: Young Adult. 197 pages. Finished 5/3/2010.

LesOpinion: If you were one of those people who loved high school, never worried about where to sit in the cafeteria, and could tell your parents anything, well, bully for you. For the rest of us more interesting people, there are books like this one. Anderson's brief novel is funny, heartbreaking, and spot on in its description of misfit angst.

Sure, it gets a little lesson-y and heavy handed at the end, but it's written for "young adults" (which really means "teenagers") so the lack of subtlety comes with the territory.

Best Quote: "I stand in the center aisle of the auditorium, a wounded zebra in a National Geographic special, looking for someone, anyone to sit next to. A predator approaches: gray jock buzz cut, whistle around a neck thicker than his head. Probably a social studies teacher hired to coach a blood sport."

If you despised those "teachers" as much as I did, you'll love this book. If high school was the pinnacle of your existence, move along. There's nothing to see here.

Daughter of Fortune

Daughter of Fortune, Isabel Allende, HarperCollins, 1999. Genre: Fiction. 399 pages. Finished 5/2/2010.

LesOpinion: I have no good excuse, Gentle Reader, for taking two whole weeks to read this novel. Chalk it up to too much work, a little bit of travel, and the discovery of all my favorite TV shows on Hulu.

While it's not House of the Spirits, Daughter of Fortune is still head and shoulders above the rest of the pop-lit dreck that litters the shelves of the Field Memorial. While this novel covers much of the same ground as Fortune is a Woman--gold rush San Francisco, Chinese immigration to the U.S., the subjugation of women and non-white races--comparing Allende to Adler would be like comparing Einstein to G.W. Bush: it would be just plain mean-spirited.

I'm sad to see the Allende Section of the library shelves go by with only two selections. But duty calls.

The House of the Spirits

The House of the Spirits, Isabel Allende, Knopf, 1982 (1985 English translation by Magda Bogin). Genre: Magical Realism. 368 pages. Finished 4/14/2010.

LesOpinion: There is this thing that happens to me that goes like this: I enjoy playing the piano, but then I go see someone who is a prodigy play the piano. And I pretty much give up playing the piano, because I have no hope of ever playing like the prodigy plays. It's like we were never doing the same thing in the first place.

If every other author I've reviewed so far is like me in that respect, and if they read Isabel Allende, they will just pack it in. For the real hacks, like Randy Alcorn or Elizabeth Adler, one can only hope.

Yes, Gentle Reader, Allende writes actual literature-with-a- capital-L. Dense, beautiful, thought-provoking, complicated, and timeless Literature.

In fact, a timely quote for your reading pleasure: "...and on the date stipulated by law the left calmly came to power. And on that date the right began to stockpile hate."

Cruel April

Cruel April, Neil Albert, Dutton, 1995. Genre: Mystery. 261 pages. Finished 4/5/10.

LesOpinion: If you're like me, you like your mysteries to have a little action in them. Enough with the mannered, lady-like mysteries of Susan Wittig Albert or that English lady with the handcuffs. Neil Albert sends his character (Dave Garrett, Private Eye) gallavanting around the Pennsylvania countryside, half out of his mind from lack of sleep and concussive head injuries, dodging bad guys in his two-toned Honda Civic, and cracking wise with comments like "she was so skinny she had to walk around in the shower to get wet." Yep, I'd happily read about five more Dave Garrett-themed mysteries. Too bad old Field Memorial only has one on the shelf.

Three by Charlotte Vale Allen

Grace Notes, Charlotte Vale Allen, 2002, Mira. Genre: Fiction. 325 pages. Finished 3/28/10.

Fresh Air, Charlotte Vale Allen, 2003, Mira. Genre: Fiction. 282 pages. Finished 4/2/10.

Parting Gifts, Charlotte Vale Allen, 2001, Mira. Genre: Fiction. 372 pages. Finished 4/4/10.

LesOpinion: Charlotte Vale Allen is the kind of author that inspires me to be nice. She is smart, compassionate, and on a mission. Apparently, she's the bestselling author of Daddy's Girl (1976), which was something of a groundbreaking memoir about growing up with domestic violence. It's no surprise, then, that two of these three novels (she has written dozens of others), have a theme of child or spousal abuse.

Allen is smart and a decent writer. Her only downfall is her fondness for the deus ex machina plot device. Unlike our friend the Reverend Alcorn, though, Allen uses it only once per novel rather than every other paragraph. And because Allen carries the flag for abused wives and children everywhere, it's hard to dislike her. She is generous with her characters, adept at writing about emotional fragility, and she does the unthinkable: she includes self-addressed reader comment cards at the end of her books!

Would I go buy a Charlotte Vale Allen book? Nope. But I would happily read another should it appear on the library shelves.

Best quote: "...the truth is that every last one of us feels like a freak at some point. But that doesn't mean we are. It's about emotion, or instinct, or bad luck temporarily getting the upper hand and making us feel ugly or abnormal."

Edge of Eternity

Edge of Eternity, Randy Alcorn, 1998, Waterbrook Press. Genre: Inspirational. 325 pages. Finished 3/27/2010.

LesOpinion: There had been a foul smell emanating from the Field Memorial Library shelves on my past few visits. Little did I know that it was this shitty book. According to the Gospel of John, God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son. Randy Alcorn's writing is proof that God's relationship with the world is love-hate, at best. Alcorn is a minister of the evangelical-hate-everyone-not-exactly-like-me stripe. And he fancies himself a fantasy genre writer of Biblical import.

Now, when I was a literature student in days of yore, I had to read my fair share of allegorical religious writing. Heck, I've even read the Bible from cover to cover. I've got nothing at all against Christians or anyone else who espouses a particular religion. What I can't abide, though, is bad writing. And this book is bad writing from beginning to end.

It ricochets madly from event to event, with the word "suddenly" serving as the only transition. And then there is the gerbil. As in "Objections descended on me like a swarm of flies. I felt a terrible sting within, then saw the gerbil attached to my chest." It gets worse. Much worse.

Dumbest quote: "Darkness fell like a huge icicle from a roof." Or maybe it's: "My body felt like a freezer bag, my internal organs frozen artichokes, cauliflower, and peas." You be the judge.

The Five People You Meet in Heaven & For One More Day

The Five People You Meet in Heaven, Mitch Albom, 2003, Hyperion. Genre: Inspirational. 196 pages. Finished 3/19/2010.

For One More Day, Mitch Albom, 2006, Hyperion. Genre: Inspirational. 197 pages. Finished 3/20/2010.

LesOpinion: The snark is back.

After having been spoon-fed pure pablum for the past two days I am here to tell you, gentle reader, that Mitch Albom is a one-trick pony the likes of which I cannot stomach. Now, don't get me wrong, one-trick ponies aren't always a bad thing: I can sit through a Law & Order marathon on a rainy day and be perfectly content. And Mitch Albom is a writer with what appears, at first glance, to be a modicum of talent (he spins a good story, captures emotion well, and has a decent vocabulary). But he takes that crumb of talent and squanders it writing bullshit books about "heaven," dishing up lines like "When someone is in your heart, they're never truly gone" and "It's such a shame to waste time. We always think we have so much of it" and "..when you look at your mother, you are looking at the purest love you will ever know." Pardon me while I go over here and puke. My only reprieve is that I was spared Tuesdays with Morrie because the Field Memorial doesn't have it.

As if bad writing isn't enough: The author bio on the dust jacket reads "Albom serves on numerous charitable boards and has founded three charities." Now, as the director of a humane society, I'm all for affluent and influential people serving the greater good by serving on boards or founding charities. I'm also all for those people using whatever influence they have to promote the charity. But you'll notice that Albom doesn't promote the actual charities (it could have said, after all, "Albom serves on several charitable boards, including those promoting Alzheimer's research" or whatever). By stating that he "serves on numerous (numerous!) charitable boards" and as the founder of three (count 'em, three!) charities, Albom isn't doing anything to promote anyone but himself. He may as well have written "Albom is a far superior human being to the rest of us." I submit the following for the next bullshit book bio : "Mitch Albom is a smug motherfucker."

Rosie Dunne

Rosie Dunne, Cecelia Ahern, 2005, Hyperion. Genre: Chick Lit. 431 pages. Finished 3/17/2010.

LesOpinion: As with Ahern's first novel, I was skeptical at first--the entire book is a series of letters, emails, IM conversations, etc that tell the life stories of two best friends who are in love with one another whether they like it or not. It's funny, touching, clever, sad, romantic, suspenseful, and, goddammit, it made me cry.

What? No snarky comments? Yep, this book is the first of the Quest to receive an official recommendation.

Read this book. You'll be glad you did.

PS, I Love You

PS, I Love You, Cecelia Ahern, 2004, Hyperion. Genre: Chick Lit. 375 pages. Finished 3/14/2010. Reviewer's Note: this book must be read in your best "magically delicious!" Irish accent for proper effect.

LesOpinion: I was fully prepared to hate this book. Here are 5 reasons why:
1. I couldn't sit through the entire movie based on the book.
2. The author was 22 years old at the time...and cute as a bug's ear...and the daughter of the Irish prime minister. Whatever.
3. Only 22-year-old cute rich girls believe in soul mates.
4. 43-year-old divorcees who haven't been on a date in 2 years not only do not believe in soul mates but they have a de facto policy of loathing against 22-year-old cute rich girls who do.
5. I have a degree in literature, thank you very much. I don't do Chick Lit.

I was wrong. That's what I love about the Library Quest. Every single book I've dreaded reading--the fantasy book, the romantic suspense books, this one--have surprised me. They are books I would never have read if not for the Quest.

No, this book still isn't great literature. No, I still don't believe in soul mates. But I now know that the movie adaptation missed the two best things about the book (to wit, that its characters are working class Irish and the main character and her friends are party girls). The writing could use an occasional edit: "She was a woman who had been given advice from a man she loved, who had taken it and tried her hardest to help heal herself." (Uh huh. I just read the last 374 pages. I think I know). But it was funny, occasionally moving, and charming. I especially like hearing Irish people use words like "nick," and "boot" in ways that we Yanks do not.

A Dilly of a Death

A Dilly of a Death, Susan Wittig Albert, 2004, The Berkeley Publishing Group. Genre: Mystery. 315 pages (323 if you include the recipes). Finished 3/13/2010.

LesOpinion: Okay, let's face it, it's a pickle-themed mystery set in west Texas. It could have been much, much worse. Despite this being one of a long series of mysteries containing this cast of characters (though the only one on the Field Memorial's shelves), I didn't feel lost or left out. The writing was friendly, the story was fine, the whole thing was just a pleasant way to pass a day or two of rain. My favorite character was a housekeeper named Lunelle who had Big Hair, Dolly Parton boobs, and a broad Texas accent. I also learned a great deal about dill. For instance, did you know that dill is not only associated with pickles because of its pungent taste, but also because it is a natural preservative and its essential oil has the ability to inhibit the growth of nasty bacteria like staph, strep, and E. coli? Well, now you do.

Stiff News

Stiff News, Catherine Aird, 1998, St. Martin's Press. Genre: Mystery. 227 pages. Finished 3/11/2010.

LesOpinion: The best thing about this book was the author photograph. Despite the fact that the book was mediocre at best, I liked it simply because I decided Catherine Aird would be a hoot to have tea with. Although this is the only Aird novel in the Field Memorial Library, apparently it's about the 859th book in a series about Inspector C.D. Sloan of the Calleshire Constabulary. It's one of those literate, fussy little English village mysteries replete with rampant quoting of Shakespeare, references to Kipling that just went whipping over my head, and delicious words like hortatative, wadi, and dirk. Unfortunately, I think my mind was so obliterated by my recent expedition through the tawdry world of Elizabeth Adler that I could barely keep track of the goings on.

In a Heartbeat

In a Heartbeat, Elizabeth Adler, 2000, Delacorte Press. Genre: Suspense. 296 pages. Finished 3/8/2010.

LesOpinion: I realize the quest is young, but this book is going to be in the running for The Stupidest Book. We have the return of Adler's trademark lazy prose (heavily dependent on the adverb "definitely") and a tale that barely holds water (the entire storyline hinges on the fact that the "best of the best" mob hitmen doesn't bother to finish the job with a head shot). Worse yet, we have more than one instance of the literary equivalent of that part in a bad TV show where the characters go back in time via harp music and wavy screen images.

Dumbest quote: Who am I kidding? This book is a 296-page Dumb Quote.

All or Nothing

All or Nothing, Elizabeth Adler, 1999, Delacorte Press. Genre: Romantic suspense. 327 pages. Finished 3/3/2010.

LesOpinion: As something of a departure from Adler’s previous books and their floral language, epic plotlines, and wildly wealthy characters, this book was a pleasant surprise. In this straightforward suspense novel, Adler managed to trim her prose and create two of her best characters: Al and Marla. They were funny, sexy, and interesting. What a fun read.

The Secret of the Villa Mimosa

The Secret of the Villa Mimosa, Elizabeth Adler, 1995, Delacorte Press. Genre: Romantic suspense. 375 pages. Finished 2/28/10.

Dumbest quote: “The man was blond, tall, and definitely handsome, with the kind of well-muscled body that looked as good in clothes as you knew it would out of them.”

LesOpinion: That dumb quote was the first line of the book and foreshadowed the awful writing to come. While the story was fun the writing made me realize that talent has little to do with who gets a publishing deal. The worst part is that I turned my cable off because I thought TV was making me stupid.

Fortune is a Woman

Fortune is a Woman, Elizabeth Adler, 1992, Delacorte Press. Genre: Women’s Pop Fiction. 433 pages. Finished 2/27/10.

LesOpinion: I’m not really sure what genre this book falls into. It’s not a classic bodice-ripping romance, and it isn’t suspenseful in the classic whodunit sense. So I called it Women’s Pop Fiction, because reading it was like watching a made-for-TV mini-series on the Lifetime Network (the men are idiots, scoundrels, or deeply flawed while the women are noble, hot, and long-suffering). It tells a fantastic tale that I suppose aspires to being referred to as “epic” since it covers continents, spans decades, and involves Chinese people. (And while the author makes sure we know Chinese immigrants were treated brutally in the U.S. at the turn of the century, she’s not above referring on more than one occasion to her Chinese characters’ faces as “enigmatic”). It was an easy read, an involving (if implausible) tale, and has a terrific twist at the end you won’t see coming.

Dumbest quote: “He was a man heading for the top and a scandalous divorce would wreck his career. And she was a scandalous woman.”

The Architect

The Architect by Keith Ablow, 2005, St. Martin’s Press. Genre: Suspense. 289 pages. Finished 2/23/10.

LesOpinion: I read this book in one day of lounging on the couch being sick. It’s what my old writing professor would have called a “small book,” meaning it didn’t have anything to say. Which is fine, because it is genre fiction and isn’t meant to do more than tell a tale of suspense. In that respect, it's better than some, worse than others. If this book were a movie, I’d say spare yourself the full ticket price and the DVD rental and wait for it to come to television, where sure, the sex scenes would be edited, but then you need only refer to the “dumbest quote” under my entry for Ablow’s Compulsion to see what you would be missing if they were.

Compulsion

Compulsion by Keith Ablow, 2002, St. Martin’s Press. Genre: Suspense. 321 pages. Finished 2/22/10.

LesOpinion: You ever feel like an author is such an arrogant douche that his hero is probably just the same guy, only people like him and women will sleep with him? Welcome to the wacky world of Keith Ablow/Frank Clevenger: bald, black-turtleneck-wearing, forensic psychiatrists.

Dumbest quote: “Her olive skin, full lips, and deep brown eyes steadied me. Something ugly inside me has always retreated in the face of feminine beauty.”

The Blade Itself

The Blade Itself by Joe Abercrombie, 2007, Pyr/Promtheus Books. Genre: Fantasy. 527 pages. Finished 2/21/10.

LesOpinion: While the characters are largely one-dimensional and the prose could use a trim, it tells a good story and builds suspense well. The fight scenes are great fun. It is clearly part one of a three-part (?) series. I’d read the other two for the entertainment.

Best word: gormless. Lacking in vitality or intelligence; stupid, dull, or clumsy.

Best quote: “Once you’ve got a task to do, it’s better to do it than to live with the fear of it.”

Wake Up, LesBlog. We've Got Work to Do.

Today, Friday, February 19, 2010, I embark upon the journey of reading every book on the fiction shelves of the Field Memorial Library, Elm Street, Conway, Massachusetts. A few rules apply:
1. If I’ve already read the book at a different time, I can choose to re-read it or not.
2. I will check books out in chunks, moving alphabetically by author. But I have the freedom to read books written by the same author in chronological order.
3. I do not have to read the books in strict alphabetical order once I have them at home.
4. I have to read the entire book. Even if it sucks.
5. I will go back (to the best of my ability) through the shelves to find books that have been returned or added to the collection since I moved past their slot. I can only do this within reason and should not be expected to obsess over it.