Books, books, books

First finished book of the year is The End, by Lemony Snickett. I have been dreadfully tired of LS for years now, really since The Ersatz Elevator. But I valiantly have read (and bought) every book and kind of hoped for something at the end of The End. Spoiler: There was nothing at the end but a new beginning. Damn him! After all this time, no big reveals except Olaf kissing Kit, and a lot of graves and Great Unknowns. J. K. Rowling better not pull this shit.
However, thanks to all the speculation about who Miss Snark is I have discovered Alice Hoffman. (Early speculation was that AH’s agent, Elaine Markson, was the divine Miss S. Now heavy money seems to be on Jet Reid.) Anyway, I may have a new love. Alice Hoffman writes lovely books like the movies Moonstruck and Mermaids. I am reading Practical Magic.
Still reading The Golden Bough, p. 145 and creeping ahead. I’m in the tree gods now. I can totally accept that spirits hang in trees. This makes me a rude savage, according to Frazer, but what can I say?

One thought on “Books, books, books

  1. I couldn’t even get through the first Snicket book. I hate hate hate that style of writing, peculiar to kids’ books, where the author not only addresses the reader directly but actually condescends to them. Blech. Roald Dahl could get away with it but everyone else needs to knock it off. And it’s a shame, because there’s so much there that’s clever and right up my alley. I loved the movie.

    JK wouldn’t dare!

    My sister-in-law is heavily into Hoffman but I’ve never read any of them. Maybe I’ll read PM too.

    Like

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