(Scroll to end of post for random crack-filled gifs of fun)
I'm procrastinating. I'm just gonna come right out and say it: I don't want to do homework, so instead I'm going to pretend that blogging counts as productive. Please be nice, and don't shatter my blissful state of denial.
I went to the bookstore today. It was wonderful. And, as usual, I came out with more books than I planned. Originally I was just going to buy a copy of Girl of Nightmares, seeing as it just came out and I've been wanting to read it for AGES. Then somehow I ended up with a copy of Hush Hush and the recently released Blackwood. Goodbye, self-control.
I've heard some really great things about Gwenda Bond's Blackwood so I'm ridiculously hyper and excited to read it. The cover art is gorgeous and everyone should go check it out on goodreads. I've read the first couple of pages, and so far I really like the writing style.
And then there is Becca Fitzpatrick's Hush Hush. Dear lord, what have I gotten myself into?
I recently re-read Twilight, for no reason other than fun. Cleolinda Jones's recaps are hilarious and made me want to read it again, so don't judge. I've gotten to the point where I can read that book in a state of permanent hilarity. Everything is funny to me; it's like bubblegum and sparkles are flowing through my veins and making me jump and scream and cry and I love it forever. I expected Hush to be similar. I was wrong.
There are some similarities, of course. Take the writing style, for instance-- it's that weirdly vague but overly descriptive and bland prose that I see in a lot of books lately *cough* Fifty Shades of Grey *cough*. It starts out with the boring, and smart protagonist meeting the sexy and mysterious love interest in a biology class, blah blah blah. But I don't see any sparkles yet. Where is my twinkie made of rainbows? Where is my snort-worthy ridiculousness? WHERE ARE MY SPARKLES?????
It seems that Hush is going to be the kind of book where I have to lower my IQ to a previously undiscovered level to enjoy. I think it's just below the level of craziness that Twilight was, so my mind subconsciously still expects it to be serious while the rest of me wants a bunch of sparkly vampires and pink fluff. I'm going to have to suppress parts of my brain in order to be able to find this funny. I hope I don't implode in the process.
Anyway, this is the longest I can stretch out this post. I guess it's time to go read some more of dear-old St. Augustine. Wish me luck.
Also, to prolong the blogging experience a little bit longer, have some gifs: