In Which Thoroughly Obsessed Thursday Has a Lot of Diffent Things to Talk About

I'm writing from my new iPad 2.

And oh man, it's awesome.

OK, full disclosure, it's an iPad that belongs to the day job that I have to have (a girl's got to eat, and blogging for the masses doesn't pay in anything but a healthy sense of self-righteousness), but somehow I don't think anyone will mind if I reappropriate this lovely piece of machinery for a few minutes.

Oh yes. This lovely piece of machinery is most definitely my obsession de la semaine.

It's thin. It's white. And it has a badass pink cover. Part of this color combination is because I accessorize only in pink. And part of it is so that my male colleagues don't steal her. Yes, it's a "her," and she needs a name. Suggestions welcome in the comments.

The problem is, though, that I got the wifi only version (like you do... AT&T has enough of my soul, thank you very much) and then I went away on a business trip (hello from sunny and hot as hell Florida!). I have no idea how to judge this next part-- I can't decide if my outrage is justified. You'll let me know, right? Here goes...

The hotel does not have wireless available in the rooms. There's an Ethernet chord, or you can purchase internet through the television. All other Internet transactions must be carried out on the questionable wireless network in the lobby. (Why yes, I did pay $25 for 2 days' worth of access, and no, I still couldn't connect. Awesome.)

Let's ignore the fact that this hotel is currently hosting three business conventions.

And let's ignore the fact that when you (read: your company) are paying $150 a night for a hotel, you shouldn't have to kick in another $12 per day to connect to the Internet in general.

HOW DO THEY NOT HAVE WIRELESS INTERNET THROUGHOUT THE BUILDING?

Sure, iPads are new, and laptops can all be plugged in. But half of the point of a laptop is that it's portable. And for business purposes in this setting, how can you possibly be expected to go back to your room to check your email, or to look something up for a potential client?

Maybe it's a Gen Y thing. Maybe it's an overly techie thing. But I would seriously think twice before checking in to this hotel for business again-- a hotel, I might add, that is otherwise very lovely and has nothing particularly "wrong" with it.

But it's the year 2011. Connection is everything. And they have failed.

(For the record, the wireless connection I am using right now was brought in by the convention I'm attending... The hotel does not even provide wireless in its own convention halls)

In Which Thoroughly Obsessed Thursday Loves Gwyneth.

Confession time:  Gwyneth Paltrow is among my life-gurus.

I know it's dumb, and more than a little lame, but I simply can't help myself.  I've been a GOOP subscriber pretty much since its inception (it started as a sheer-curiosity, "WTF is she going to write about every week?" thing) and the more I read, the more I love her.

I re-emphasize that I know this is lame.

Here's what I like: she's a foodie.  And she readily admits she's imperfect.  And her life-motto, the one quoted in her new book (the main object of my obsession) speaks to me on a number of levels:

Invest in what's real.  Clean as you go.  Drink while you cook.  Make it fun.  It doesn't have to be complicated.  It will be what it will be.

This is the kind of chill philosophy with which I can get down.

Gwyneth imparts life-tips every week, and this is something you have to take with a HUGE grain of salt.  Like really, a huge one.  A couple of weeks ago she wrote a column about being a working mom and how crazy life can be.  People immediately jumped on the fact that she is a millionaire, and that part of her life-busy-ness is that she takes an hour and a half to work out every day.  You know what, though?  I don't really have energy to take issue with that.  She wasn't saying "everyone should be like me all the time," she was sharing tips for life organization, and using her own life to provide examples.

But whatever.

In any event, Gwynnie was on the cover of Vogue last year (August?) and it mentioned that she was coming out with a cookbook.  I pretty much freaked out and pre-ordered it right then and there.  When My Father's Daughter: Delicious, Easy Recipes Celebrating Family & Togetherness came to my door this week, I sat down and read it cover to cover, stopping only to be polite enough to speak to my family during dinner.

(Those familiar with Gwyneth's food-and-family philosophy will find this painfully ironic)

I'm learning that there is such a thing as duck bacon (ohholyhell, and where can I get some?!), and about things like agave and spelt flour.  I'm not sure I'm going to have a complete diet renaissance, but the presentation of these hippy-ish things is such that I'm intrigued.  And that's really cool.

So yeah, run to the library or to the book store, and check this book out.  And if you feel like it, subscribe to GOOP.  It's not always awesome (this week's fashion issue was not something that spoke to me at all), but usually there is a little slice of inspiration that gives a new perspective.

And that's OK with me.

In Which I Review To Seduce A Sinner

It took me a really long time to get in to this book.

Like, a really really, week-long, 100-page long time.

Melisande Fleming has been pining after Lord Vale for years, and when he is jilted at the altar for the second time in the span of a year, she seizes the moment and asks him to marry her.  And because this is his second time being jilted in a year, Vale says "yes."

And that's basically it.  I mean, it's really really not, but that was my problem for 100 pages.  The perspective was very limited, and I was irritated.  However, unlike in the last such book I read, the perspective in this book genuinely did open up and take me in.

Vale is a war vet, having served in the British Army during the French and Indian War (side note: I think this might be the first Colonial period novel I have ever read), and he has a little (read: a lot) PTSD.  His unit was sold out and captured and tortured by Native Americans.  This could have been really tricky (stereotypes much??) but there's a good dose of cultural relativism delivered by the man most brutally tortured during the captivity:

I've studied it since.  It's their way of dealing with prisoners of war.  They torture them... Just as we hang small boys by the neck for picking a grown man's pocket.  It's simply their way.

The Duke spends a great deal of the book obsessed; obsessed with finding out who sold out his regiment, and obsessed with finding out what makes his new wife tick.

Yes, his new wife.  Melisande is awesome in a number of ways, but it's mostly her strength that is appealing.  She's in love with this dude who buys her earrings because he hasn't taken the time to notice that her ears aren't pierced, and she never whines or indulges in self-pity.  She's had her heart pretty badly broken in a previous relationship and still has the courage to ask the man who has the most power to damage her to marry her.  She honestly doesn't give a damn when she runs in to another lord's mistress in the park, talking to her and her children openly and warmly.  Melisande just keeps showing up, hoping (not naively) that everything is going to get a little better every day.  She takes her life into her own hands and doesn't hold anyone else responsible for her happiness.

She also has the patience not to freak the eff out every time Vale is a douche.  And Vale is a douche a lot of the time.  Melisande comes to this book fully formed and developed, all we do is see what all of that means.  Vale grows, though, from a rake who can't remember the names of all of the women he's bedded who literally can't think of anything but getting justice for this fallen comrades, to a man thoroughly and honestly devoted to his wife.

We begin the book knowing that Vale had a horrific experience in the Colonies, and knowing that Melisande had a relationship that went very, very wrong.  In the end, though, we know all of the pertinent information.  We just find it out when the other characters do.  I like that.  That's how the limited perspective thing should work.

Another side note: Melisande has a terrier named Sir Mouse, who is at once obnoxious and seriously adorable.  As the proud mother of a metabolically-challenged, height impaired beagle, I would like to say that this is the most realistic portrayal of domestic animal behavior that I have read recently.  Possibly ever.

To Seduce A Sinner is the second (?) book in The Legend of the Four Soldiers series, one book obviously set before this one, and one is well on its way by the time this story comes to a close.  Last week I never would have thought I'd end up saying this, but here goes: I'm really excited to read the rest of these books.

In Which I Review One Night is Never Enough

I ordered One Night is Never Enough by Anne Mallory based on this review from Dear Author.

I was intrigued by the premise, and considering that the review was favorable (and I am always on the lookout for a new favorite author), I pretty much didn't hesitate.

Charlotte Chatsworth's father is nothing short of a jackass.  He's an alcoholic.  He gambles.  He's in serious debt.  As things stand now, he's basically auctioning his eldest daughter (considered to be one of the most, if not the most beautiful woman in London) to the highest bidder, exchanging the perfect wife for monetary compensation and protection.

Lord Chatsworth finds himself in a perfect storm of a situation one night when Mr. Trant wagers ten thousand pounds against a single night with Charlotte.  Because he's the worst parent in the history of the world (Lohans included!), Chatsworth accepts.  The problem is the other man at the table, Roman Merrick, owner of the fine establishment where the wager takes place.  Merrick has seen Charlotte around and had spoken to her that very day.  And he decides he wants a night with Charlotte too, enough to cheat and compromise his gaming hell's reputation.

Charlotte is a very noble character.  She lives a life in which she knows she's nothing but (very expensive) chattel, but she also knows her worth; she knows she's beautiful, she knows she's liked, and she knows she'll make one helluva wife.  If she's a little "I'll-sacrifice-myself-so-nothing-happens-to-my-family (even if they are all a-holes)," it's vaguely acceptable because she never whines about it.

Roman, on the other hand, is a more elusive character.  He calls forth memories of another boy-from-the-streets-turned-uber-successful-power-magnate, Derek Craven, but without the outward shows of emotion.  And if you know Derek Craven, you know that's a seriously stoic dude.  Roman owns the club with his "brother" (read: not his brother) Andreas, who is annoyingly dour and grouchy.  Roman at least has a sense of humor (and of honor- all he does on his night with Charlotte is talk to her and play chess), but we're not given much by way of character description.

Which brings me to the major frustration with the book.  The Dear Author review says this:

What [the author] does best, in my not so humble opinion, is to narrow the scope of the story to a single, claustrophobic perspective at the beginning of the story—usually the heroine’s. From here, she slowly opens the lens of the camera, widens the picture outward, eventually zooming out to encompass a much larger scene—but one that is always imbedded in that first intense and narrow eye. The result of this perspective being rooted in that first narrow and emotional scope, gives her stories an intensity and an emotional nuance that I find unusual or, at the very least, uncommon. 

It is indeed uncommon.  And in my not so humble opinion, it should stay that way.  I found the lack of perspective totally disconnecting.  We have no idea what propels Mr. Trant to make such an offensive bid for Charlotte's person.  If he wants a respectable wife, why would he risk ruining her reputation?  There is very clearly a rival gang/club to Roman and Andreas' motley crew.  In fact, they attack the club and almost kill Andreas.  And we have no idea who they are and what their problem is.  Andreas has family issues that follow the men around and cause problems.  We never know what those issues are, or why there is such a cause for concern.

Hell, most of the time I couldn't even tell whether or not Roman and Charlotte wanted to be together beyond their super sexy secret affair.  It seems to me that they both spent most of the book preparing to part ways (Or carry on after she's married?  Uh... Not awesome.) and only decided at the last minute that all of the social problems went away they could try to make it work.

I certainly appreciate the thought behind telling the story from a limited perspective.  Why should the reader know more than the characters?  Very little is explained to us because very little is explained to Charlotte.  And I get that.  But for myself, I found that it only served to remove me from the story and the characters to the point that in the end, I honestly didn't care what happened one way or another.

In Which Monday Menu Mayhem Messes With a Classic

Honestly, I don't know why I made this recipe.  I mean, there's nothing wrong with Nigella's Chocolate Chip Cookies, and you've got to give her credit for trying to get us to change our minds and our palates.  But let's be perfectly clear: nothing ever can/will/should surpass the Tollhouse Chocolate Chip Cookie in terms of excellence and infinite makeability.

That said, there is nothing wrong with the Nigella recipe.  It varies from the traditional in that we melt the butter, use superfine sugar (I wouldn't have bothered if I didn't have some in the kitchen anyway), and use an egg and an egg yolk instead of two whole eggs.  Also, the recipe called for milk chocolate chips, but I was NOT going to give up my semi-sweets.  The result was good, but not memorable.  Something akin to what you would buy at a cafe for $2 apiece.  I have nothing against them and would totally make them again... if only I didn't have a better recipe at my disposal.

Speaking of things that never need to happen again, I just do need to take a moment to discuss the oh-holy-hell-in-a-handbasket disaster that was last night's Oscars.  I love Anne Hathaway, but no amount of uber-sunny energy was going to save that snoozefest trainwreck.  There was nothing fun about the ceremony (save for a handful of memorable acceptance speeches), there was nothing funny about the hosts (can we spell A-W-K-W-A-R-D?), and, more importantly, there was nothing even remotely interesting in the winners.  Everyone who was supposed to win, did.  Not that that's a bad thing (I'm looking at you, Colin Firth... could you please stop looking at your gorgeous Italian wife and look over here?  No?), but a lack of Shakespeare in Love/Crash-style upset made it all an exercise in "Did I really even need to bother watching this?" dullitude.  Hell, even if The Social Network had won, I'm not sure that would have made things more interesting.

I have been an Oscar watcher since, well... A really long time.  Like, too-young-for-my-parents-to-let-me-stay-up-and-watch-the-whole-thing long time.  And this year was enough to make me want to give up altogether.  Dear Hollywood, The next thing you should reboot?  THE ACADEMY AWARDS.

OK.  Rant over.

In Which Thoroughly Obsessed Thursday Plugs Along on the Non-Fiction Front.

Quick recap for those who don't know: I get all of my non-fiction reading-by-listening done during the four hour round-trip I make about once a week to Scout Camp.  It's served me well; I've gotten a considerable chunk of non-fiction reading done since this whole crazy idea took shape, far more than if I had tried to find the time to actually... well, read.

My focus for the past few weeks (because that's how long these things take) has been The First Tycoon: The Epic Life of Cornelius Vanderbilt by T. J. Stiles.  I first saw the book in San Francisco (I think), and was extremely excited to give it a try as soon as I finished A. Lincoln.

And when I finally finished it today, I felt... underwhelmed.

This was upsetting, because I had super high hopes.  This book won the National Book Award, after all, and I really wanted something epic (as the title suggests), along the John Adams lines.  In the end, I don't feel like I know Cornelius Vanderbilt any better; I know he was an obscenely wealthy man (adjusted to today's dollars, he's worth over $100 billion), and I know that he made his money in shipping and railroads.

I suppose, ultimately, that I also know that he helped to pave the way west, and that he had an incredibly fractured (yet interesting!) family life.

But I really don't know that much about him.  The book is filled with interesting historical economic facts (perhaps too many, it can be difficult to follow) and cannot emphasize enough the role Vanderbilt had in shaping our modern economy (and it really cannot be overstated... the country would not be the same without him), but the man himself remains elusive.

We know what he did, but not much of why he did it.  And call me a lame-o, but my favorite parts of biographies tend to be the nitty-gritty relationship details, the interpersonal relationships between the subject of the book and the people surrounding him/her.  In this book, I really wish there had been as much about the difficulties Vanderbilt had with his various sons and sons-in-law (and his daughters!), and the intriguing relationship he had with his first wife, Sophia as there was about dividends and railroad monopolies.  Cornelius and Sophia Vanderbilt were married for over fifty years, and yet Sophia only shows up in the text sporadically, mostly as a set-piece in the difficult relationship Vanderbilt had with his son, another Cornelius.

The First Tycoon reads almost like a laundry list of stock shortages, railroad routes, and how to corner the stock market, nineteenth century-style, and I'm way too far removed from an economics classroom to follow the finer points.

I certainly admire the work put in to the book; Stiles did his research and gives plenty of details about the financial and political goings-on at the time.  I only wish he had been able to tell me more about the man he's supposedly writing about.

In Which Thoroughly Obsessed Thursday Discovers Scott Pilgrim

I’m not sure which came first: Wanting to read Scott Pilgrim, or wanting to watch the movie. If I’m being honest, I think the chicken came before the egg; the only reason I was aware that there was a series of graphic novels about Scott Pilgrim was because I knew that there was a movie being made that starred Michael Cera as the titular slacker-in-waiting.

There are some who have beef with Michael Cera, and to them I say “I get it.” But I have been smitten with the kitten since 2004 when my mother gave me the first season of Arrested Development for Christmas. In my eyes, George Michael Bluth can do no wrong, and you’re really not going to convince me otherwise. So don’t try.

I should also mention that at this time it would take an absolute act of Peter Jackson to get me into the movie theater. It’s expensive, it’s sticky, and, much like television, I don’t have time to adhere to someone else’s schedule. On Demand and iTunes rentals are my friend.

So last week in the midst of the Christmas chaos my baby brother brought me his copy of Scott Pilgrim’s Precious Little Life and then proceeded to ask me every single day if I had read it yet. And then I finally did. And then I watched the movie.

The series is seven novels long, one (I assume?) per “ex” (NOT “ex-boyfriend”) that Scott has to defeat to maintain his “going out” status with his newly discovered soulmate, Ramona Flowers. Admittedly I should have read all of them before watching the movie, which does indeed encompass all of them.

First, the graphic novel review, with the qualifier that I am no Great Reader of Graphic Novels: I thought it was charming, easily read, and very funny. There were times when I was laughing out loud. According to my brother (who, as the only reader of Scott Pilgrim I know personally, shall henceforth be known as The Expert) it does better on subsequent readings (“you see more”) and I don’t doubt him for a second. I was charmed by Scott, despite the fact that he is a huge loser who really needs to do something with his life, dammit.

Next the movie review, because this is my blog and I can review anything I want: The movie is good, if not great, and a respectable transference of graphic novel sensibilities to the large screen (or in my case, the small screen of my laptop). Michael Cera is Michael Cera-y, and this did not offend me (though Candy was not so impressed when she reviewed both at SmartBitches back in August). Again, I didn’t read all of the novels, so I had not really had an opportunity to fully form Scott Pilgrim in my head. As in the novel, my favorite character was Scott’s gay roommate (with whom he shares a bed... without conflict!... I can’t tell you how awesome I think this is) Wallace Wells played by Kieran Culkin, and unlike in the novels, I had a full appreciation for Anna Kendrick’s Stacey Pilgrim, Scott’s super-annoying/awesome sister.

So now my brother is happy, we have something to talk about, I have more things added to my TBR shelf (Ha ha. Ha. I laugh so I don’t cry), and I crossed one of the many movies on my Don’t Forget to Watch This At Some Point List.

Yeah... it’s a good day.

In Which I Take the Rest of the Year Off.

Dear Friends,
As I'm sure is the case with all of you, things have been out of control for me in the past few weeks, and it doesn't look like it's going to let up any time soon.

I sat down to write a Thoroughly Obsessed post last Thursday and it was... bad. Because I've got nothing.

So, I've decided take the rest of the year off. I'm going to come back relaxed and refreshed (and having read at least two books) the first week in January. I'm even planning another weekly staple column to go along with Thoroughly Obsessed. Aren't you excited?

As consolation I leave you with the following oh-holy-hell-badass videos. Their awesomeness cannot be overstated.

May you have a Merry Christmas, Festivus, whatever. And may 2011 bring you nothing but good health and happiness.

See you next year!

In Which Thoroughly Obsessed Thursday Finds a Too Stupid to Live Heroine.

I think I have written about this before, so if you’re bored of this topic I apologize in advance. I’m reading a new book this week (a new book whose purchase was fully supervised and semi-endorsed by the Scout Master), and the heroine is Too Stupid to Live (TSTL).

I’m not going to get into the major plot of the book, or even tell you the title, the name of the author, etc. The review will be ready for next week. All I want to talk about, for a moment, is when a heroine is so dumb you want to punch her in the face.

And then stop reading the book about her.

So far, I have read up to page 53. That’s right, the heroine is so mind-blowingly dumb I want to lure her into a darkened alley and smash her head in with a frying pan already. If only because it would be so easy. On page 53.

Let’s do bullet points, “You Might Be a Redneck” style.

*If you witness a murder and think you have been identified as a key witness by the murderer, but don’t request police protection, you might be TSTL.

*If you are a newspaper reporter and witness a murder and think it’s a great idea to write a first-hand account of the event (including description of the guy you think made you!) to be published on the front page of the paper, you might be TSTL.

*If the Chief of Police comes to you and tells you that you’re a dumbass for writing your eyewitness account of the crime because now your life is in danger, and you hide behind the first amendment to continue writing about it anyway, you might be TSTL.

*If after the Chief of Police tells you you’re a dumbass you go to the hospital to question the only other witness to the murder to ask him about why someone might want to murder you now, you might be TSTL.

*If you run in to the man you think is the murderer in a hospital corridor and do not immediately scream bloody murder, you might be TSTL.

*If that man kisses you to shut you up (!!) after dragging you into a closet while acting extremely sketchy (!!) and not only do you not kick him in the nads, but you can’t stop thinking about him in a lusty way afterwards, you might be TSTL.

*If after the Chief of Police and Sketchy Kissy Dude (undercover agent, natch) tell you your life is in danger, you decide to go to the neighborhood where the shooting took place and knock on doors to dig up more information, YOU MIGHT BE TSTL.

I’m really disappointed by this, because I read a previous book by this author (same series) and while the heroine was no shining beacon of common sense, she most definitely was not as dumb as this bitch.

Now that that’s off my chest, I feel a lot better. And I hope you do too.

Aren’t you excited for this book review????

In Which Thoroughly Obsessed Thursday is Thankful. And a Day Early.

Happy Thanksgiving! It’s that most wonderful time of the year where family and friends come together to celebrate the awesomeness of being family and friends. I’m a huge fan of this time of year in general; I like that it’s getting colder and that the trees are looking sinister, and I like that it is suddenly a really really great idea to sit at home under a blanket and read a book.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday because everyone celebrates it (Well, everyone in America. Hello British readers!). There’s no need for political correctness around Thanksgiving, no wondering if you just wished someone to have a pleasant holiday that they don’t even celebrate. You just say “Happy Thanksgiving” and smile when the other person wishes you the same.

Everyone has different traditions, but woven through it all are a few basic truths: we will eat turkey and potatoes and cranberry sauce and pie, dammit. And then we will have the ceremonial watching of the football (GO PATS!).

In the spirit of being totally cheesy, please find herewith the things I am thankful for this year. In no particular order:

*My family. It’s crazy, we’re crazy, and I’m at that time in my life where I seem to be acquiring a whole other branch. You can’t pick your family, but if I had been given the choice, I wouldn’t have picked anyone else.

*The continued health of my family. Despite my own run-ins with fatal disease this summer, we remain a remarkably hale and hearty bunch. We have friends who are having scares, or who have recently received some bad news, and they are in our thoughts every day. I am so grateful that it looks like we’ll get through 2010 unscathed (with some of us doing better than ever).

*At the risk of alienating everyone with my grossness, I’m thankful for Boy Scout. I’m not going to say more than that, though, because I already just threw up a little in my mouth.

*My MacBook Pro. This mighty machine has made my life at least 3 times easier, and at least 4.35 times more efficient. Thank you, Apple, for creating something that helps me keep my sanity.

*My beagle. He’s a regular pain in the ass, but he sure does give us something to talk about. And he’s too cute for me to hold any sort of long-term grudge about the burying-a-dug-up-bone-in-my-bed incident.

*My books. Obvious much? But in the past year the importance of books and reading in my life could not have been more apparent. I love to read, and I love to read romance novels. I’m just really thankful that there are so many awesome ones still waiting to be discovered (same goes for “television shows”).

*This forum. I’m thankful for the interwebs and the fact that a girl like me can get on her small soapbox and talk about one of the things I love most, and some of the things I don’t. Thanks for reading.

From my home to yours, a very happy, healthy, and overstuffed Thanksgiving. Just remember, it’s not shameful to go back for thirds.

In Which Thoroughly Obsessed Thursday is Exhausted.

Thoroughly Obsessed is still obsessed with procrastination. And sleep. And also wine. (And additionally, whine).

This is a tough post to write, given that I am so far behind in WriMo that it isn’t really funny for me to write a procrastinating post about procrastinating. Dammit. But I’m going to anyway.

Because once again I have neglected an important part of my reading schedule: the non-fiction that kind gentlemen read to me while I’m running all over the region. Well, mostly back and forth to Scout Camp.

Since our last check-in, I have read (I think) two books, Mornings On Horseback by David McCullough (can’t get enough of that dude) and my current distraction, A. Lincoln by Ronald C. White. Once again I am reading with a sort of shocking time-linear efficiency, though this time I’ve read backwards.

Mornings on Horseback was fascinating, and I’m not just saying that because I think McCullough could make Sarah Palin seem like a compelling figure. (Sorry, I had to. It’s been one of those days).

At any rate, the tale of the Roosevelt children and their upbringing in upscale New York, surrounded by intensely interesting parents (mother Mittie was reportedly the model for Scarlett O’Hara, and was sending care packages to her Confederate soldier brothers at the same time her husband was running supplies for the Union), and even more intensely interesting adventures that truly shaped the people that they ended up becoming. Intensely interesting people, naturally.

What did I learn from this book? Well, the Scarlett O’Hara thing, natch. (Mitchell refused to name the influence, but it’s known that she spent a lot of time speaking to people who knew Mittie while writing the book. Mittie, by the way, was short with dark hair and an impossibly small waist. And she was not beautiful, though men seldom realized it when caught by her charm as Theodore Roosevelt Sr. was. Oh wait...) Also, I never realized what a tragedy Teddy lived through right around the time he started serving as a legislator in the state of New York; his daughter Alice was born on February 12, 1884, and within thirty-six hours both Teddy’s mother and his wife were dead. Alice, bearing the same name as her mother, was called by her middle name, Lee, by her father, who could not bear reminders of his wife.

I’m not sure exactly what to say about Mr. A. Lincoln, except that he is/was pretty badass. And I’m not done with the book yet, but at the three-quarter mark I can tell you that White is an excellent writer, and I would definitely consider picking up others of his works, McCullough style.

Once again I am struck by the similarities between politics then and politics now. Then Lincoln and other legislators who opposed (I think) the Blackhawk War were accused of “not supporting the troops.” (Hmmmm). Then when Lincoln ran for president, these accusations resurfaced to make him seem unpatriotic. (Hmmmm). This is of course ironic, because those who were mostly responsible for these accusations later committed treason against the United States by seceding from the Union.

Wow. I’m on fire today with potentially polarizing opinions, aren’t I?

In any event, I thank you, Thoroughly Obsessed reader, for giving me a forum to further procrastinate and... get warmed up? Huh. Look at that. I’m ready to go write some more.

In Which Thoroughly Obsessed Thursday is Procrastinating. Seriously.

Wow. This is one big ol’ hunk of procrastination, right here. I’m 3,200 words behind to meet quota tonight (No writing at all yesterday. At all. So now we have to make up for it, somehow...) and perhaps my heroine will suddenly develop a desire to blog about being thoroughly obsessed on Thursdays. You don’t know. And neither do I. It’s the nature of the beast.

I do want to take a moment to talk about my re-entry into the world of Historical Romance. It’s been a while since I’ve been in to it, as (I’m sure some of you are aware) these things are cyclical. One day you can’t get enough of the demonic paranormals, the next you’re drooling over wounded Napoleonic soldiers.

It Happened One Autumn is what did it for me (and no, I’m not jumping backward into Secrets of a Summer Night... I’ve instead started an Eloisa James called A Kiss at Midnight). Something about that book in particular re-enchanted me with the gloriousity of good regency novel, what it’s like when charming (and slightly clueless) heroines get together with rakishly good looking Earls/Dukes/Marquis/Etc.

So when I was at San Francisco International last week, I naturally bought four (yep, onetwothreefour) historicals. Please don’t tell Boy Scout. I may or may not have made a promise not to buy any new books. Clearly he had to know I was lying. Well, not lying. There was nothing malicious about it. It was more like short-sightedness.

ANYWAY. As soon as I have time in life (ha ha ha. HA.) I’m going to read these historical romance novels. And then I’m going to tell you about them. But in the meantime, in case you’re procrastinating about WriMo, too, here are some of my fave historicals to look up on Amazon:

Captain of All Pleasures (Kresley Cole)- The first and one of the best Kresley Coles, this one features a sailing contest, and a hot hero named Derek. And you know I’m a sucker for heroes named Derek.

Dreaming of You (Lisa Kleypas)- I’m also a sucker for a hero who is so bad he’s yummy. Just about every scene when Derek Craven tries to send Sara Fielding back to where she came from makes me melt.

Guardian Angel (Julie Garwood)- The Pirate Pagan. And a butler named Sterns. And that’s all I have to say about that.

Spymaster’s Lady (Joanna Bourne)- Girl spy. More post-Revolutionary France. Badass.

A Touch of Fire (Linda Howard)- Sure Rafe’s a bit of a douchecanoe at the beginning, but you would be too if you were on the run after being wrongly accused, and then shot. It’s the way they come together (and the not-quite-accurate history) that is awesome.

Goddammit, that did not take up nearly enough time. Now I have to go write. For realsies.

Dear My Heroine: How do you feel about blogging? It’s cool, right?...

In Which Thoroughly Obsessed Thursday Can't Stop Talking About The Good Wife

If you know me personally or have just been reading me from a distance, you know that I love me some superlatives. I like to invent them, I like to steal them from other people, I like to pile them one on top of the other for maximum effect.

So when I say that I can’t really think of enough to use with regard to The Good Wife, you know that I must be pretty effing serious.

The acting is superb. The writing is superb. And honestly, if I’m going to derail into a Thoroughly Obsessed post about a television show, I cannot think of a better show to endorse on a romance blog.

It’s odd to say that I am excited that almost all of my favorite people are in the same TV show, because I had no idea they were my favorites before I started watching the show. I mean, Josh Charles has been on my list since Sports Night (Dan Rydell, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways...), I have had a girl-crush on Juliana Marguiles since ER, and though I’ve had a moderate like/hate relationship with Sex and the City, Chris Noth is yummy. So is Christine Baranski. And Alan Cuming. And Archie Panjabi. And let’s not forget the recent (temporary... sigh) addition of Friday Night Lights’ Scott Porter. (I won’t get into Miles from Rubicon acting as Alicia Florrick’s baby brother... glorious)

In case you haven’t heard, Alicia Florrick (Marguiles) is the Good Wife of disgraced politician Peter (Noth). There’s political conspiracies aplenty in season two as Peter is now out of jail and running again for State’s Attorney of Cook County. After her husband’s imprisonment for corruption, Alicia had to go back to work, and she joined a law firm run by her old college flame Will (Charles) and a democratic barracuda (Baranski).

What’s so awesome about all of this? The delicate balance woven each week between home and work, and all of these gifted actors (read: amazing characters) who collide and realign based on whatever is happening at the moment.

My favorite person right now? Cary Agos, played by Matt Czuchry, as Alicia’s former rival at the firm who was let go due to budget cuts at the end of last season. What’s a boy to do? Well, go to work for that demonic Man in Black, Peter’s State’s Attorney rival Glenn Childs. What’s so delicious about Cary’s defection, though, is his ambiguity in the ensuing period. Does he have a reason to be bitter and vengeful? Sure. He got screwed. But the fact is that for all of his anger, Cary hasn’t lost his sense of right. And he still seems to respect everyone from his former firm. So far.

The love triangle that is central to The Good Wife is that between Alicia, Will, and Peter. As a viewer, I love Alicia, and I’m dying for her to be happy with a man who is right for her. As it stands now, it’s terribly unclear which of these handsome and questionable men is right. Peter’s a douchebag who’s made mistakes, no question. But he seems genuinely invested in righting the situation and having a good relationship with his wife. Not to mention that their home/law chemistry, especially now that Alicia’s back in the game, is mesmerizing. Meanwhile, Will is the ultimate playboy lawyer with no interest/experience in family... but he loves her. He’s been in love with her since Georgetown. And he’s willing to go for it if she is.

I don’t think I need to ramble any more. I just need to say: Watch This Show. Immediately. And all the time. You won’t regret it.

In Which Thoroughly Obsessed Thursday is Obsessed with NaNoWriMo

This might as well be every post that I write throughout the month of November.

I have had various fantasies about posting snippets from my WriMo novel for your consumption, judgement, and general WTF-ed reaction, but I just don’t foresee that happening.

Mostly because anyone who knows anything about NaNoWriMo knows that after about the first week, nothing you write makes sense, because at that point you’ve just started to make shit up.

Let me back up.

November is National Novel Writing Month. For the uninitiated, this is an insane month, invented and perpetuated by insane people, all of whom think it’s a great idea to write a 50,000 word novel between November 1 and November 30. In case you’re wondering, I finished (“won”) in ’08, but failed mis-er-a-bly in ’09. But I’m winning this year, dammit.

I think.

Anyway, there might be nothing but Thoroughly Obsessed posts throughout November, aimed at my talking through a particular point, making up bits of research that I think I need for my novel (“What kind of research,” you ask? I have no idea yet. Because I have no idea what I’m going to write yet. Awesome, right?) Thoroughly Obsessed is also going to be the place that I post every last ounce of procrastination that I can come up with. Get ready.

The moral of the story is, if you’re a budding writer, a professional writer, a first-time writer, or someone who is insane, I encourage you to go to nanowrimo.org and celebrate your insanity and writerly-ness.

Oh, I almost forgot. Anyone who has anything they would like me to write about (topic? sporting event? character name? type of ancient Egyptian drinking vessel?) please feel free to share. I can’t promise I’ll include it, but I can promise that between word 30,000 and word 39,999 when I’m going out of my mind, it will be extremely comforting to me to know that I have options.

This Thoroughly Obsessed Thursday has been brought to you by the letters A through Z, every word that begins with each of those letters, and National Novel Writing Month. May the Force be with us.

In Which We Inaugurate Thoroughly Obsessed Thursday

So in light of a complete lack of contribution on your end, and a total blockage of brilliance of mine, I hereby dub The Weekly Regular Column to be Thoroughly Obsessed Thursday.

That is, until one of us has a better idea.

I'm totally obsessed with romance novels. Obviously. But I am more than a love-loving fool... I love plenty of other things too. And while this blog is ostensibly to talk about romance novels (or whatever the hell I am pretending to read this week), I have just officially hijacked it for Other Things as well.

I might be obsessed with a book or a character or a movie or a show or a site. It'll depend on my mood. So basically this is going to be a regular contribution of... what I talk about every week anyway. It's just happening on Thursday because that's my favorite day of the week, harkening back to the good old days of Must-See TV and Friends on NBC.

Speaking of, this week I am thoroughly obsessed with Community, that little-seen sparkly gem hiding at the beginning of the NBC Thursday lineup. It's not-so-much Must-See TV anymore, both because we're now in a different century and because reminding everyone of their previous Thursday night heyday is not the right move given NBC's current anemic ratings.

SO ANYWAY. Community. Last year I watched the pilot and the first few eps from Utah, but like so many things in the final months of 2009, it was lost to the chaos of Press Accreditation applications.

What I missed was a steadily growing and improving (perfecting?) ensemble comedy that is one of the finest I've seen since Liz Lemon and her gang first took to the small screen in 2006. The most interesting (and best) part of Community for me is that it is genuinely an ensemble effort. Sure, The Soup's Joel McHale is handsome and theoretically "the leading man," but Danny Pudi's Abed, Donald Glover's Troy, and Chevy Chase's Pierce are in no way his second bananas. Quite the contrary, I'm a little convinced that Abed himself is the true main character of the show.

And of course we must not forget the women, who are genuinely portrayed as... realistic women. They're flawed and can be bitchy, but there's no "slut," or "good girl." Well, Mad Men's Alison Brie plays Annie as an innocent who has to whisper the word "penis," but the girl evolves along with the rest to become a fully rounded and multi-dimensional character.

An aside: In watching the eps with commentary (and they ALL have commentary) there are a couple of comparisons here and there to Gilligan's Island, referenced by the creator and the writers. And ohholyhell is Community the 21st century Gilligan's Island. Jeff's the Captain. Abed's Gilligan. Troy's the Professor. Annie's Mary Ann, Britta's Ginger, and Shirley and Pierce are (albiet not at all married and/or romantic AT ALL) are Lovey and Thurston Howell. Watch it and you'll see. I'm not wrong.

Have I mentioned it's funny? No? Because it's hilarious. If you're going to skip the season marathon (which I don't recommend... not because you can't miss anything, but because you really won't want to) and pick selected episode's before diving in to the still-stellar second season, I recommend check out the Pilot, "Introduction to Statistics", "Debate 109", "Romantic Expressionism", "Physical Education", "Contemporary American Poultry", "Modern Warfare", and "Pascal's Triangle Revisited". All excellent, all worth a look, and all well-placed to give you a general overview of all of this awesomeness.

Well, there you go. The first Thoroughly Obsessed Thursday. Don't tell me you're not excited.

In Which I Deviate.

Remember that time I was going to write about my heroines? Yeah. Semi-fail.

Remember that time I abandoned my other blog in favor of this one? Yeah. Total success. I think.

So now is the time when I wish the two points above would coalesce into something awesome. I am currently reading two books, with emphasis on the one that arrived from Amazon today (I clearly need to talk to someone about my ADD reading habits... Melissa?!). The new book is a new-ish book called One Day by David Nicholls. I recently read the super happy Entertainment Weekly article regarding excitement over the movie that has just been filmed, and was intrigued by the premise.

Don't worry, it's totally a romance.

Moral of the story? I don't have a book to write about right this minute, but I really would like to write a blog entry anyway. As we all know, I have been fully entrenched in all of my new DVDs (Community is my most current obsession) which is not entirely appropriate for my book-reading blog, but which brings me around fully to my heroine post.

I've written about it before on the other blog, but I am actively not linking, because that would be cheating.

Liz Lemon is my heroine. "And by heroine, I mean 'lady hero.' I don't mean I want to inject [her] and listen to jazz."

Coming from a generation of girls nursed through adolescence by Sex and the City, I have to say that nothing about that show appealed to me. (Full disclosure: I enjoyed the first movie) Sure, the fashions were great and it was awesome to see a group of liberated women living unapologetically in the 00's, representing a new generation, etc. Yay post-modern feminism. Or something.

Except that they didn't represent me. I fully acknowledge my freakishness on a number of levels, but I don't think I'm alone in saying that I am neither a Carrie, a Samantha, a Charlotte, nor a Miranda. I mean, I'm a Miranda if nothing else, because that's what she was there for, right? To represent the nerds. But she wasn't a nerd. At all.

Liz Lemon, rather, is my hapless, Star Wars referencing, successful, bra-taping role model. Is she perfect? Not in the slightest. But she also doesn't give two fat rats about her shoes, clothes, the condition of her hair, or the fact that she is, quite simply, a raging nerd. This is the woman who tried to write Star Wars references into a telenovela called Los Amantes Clandestinos, and who dumped Jon Hamm (Jon-freaking-Hamm, people!!!) because he was too dumb, who regularly writes sketches about farting, and who constantly finds herself in socially awkward sitations. Like having to stall your ex-boyfriend's wedding so your boss' girlfriend won't leave. I believe the quote "Come on, Bible. Give a girl a break" is used. Genius.

This is my kind of woman, and I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get her on to my list before. I guess things are finally lining up for old Liz Lemon.

P to the S- I'm sorry to report that the paranormal writing thing didn't quite work out. Obviously it's going to take more to get me to write it than it took to get me to read it.

In Which I Answer a Question You Didn't Even Ask.

This is the review I read earlier today on DearAuthor.com.

Lovely, well-written review.

It brings up an issue that I'm slightly embarrassed to admit has never ONCE occurred to me: the obvious pro-British, anti-French thread running through almost all American-written Regency/Revolution era romance novels. Once you hear (or read) that it exists, it's like, the biggest "DUH" ever. EVER. What can I say? I left all of my major thematic analytical skillz in Mrs. Eriksen's Senior English.

The lovely review vaguely tries to make sense of this, but ultimately offers little by way of answers. Because honestly, who can answer that question definitively? Maybe every single American author of Regencies hates all things French (highly doubtful). Maybe they all favor hereditary monarchies (possible, but only in hypothetical, ridiculously small countries where the nannies are particularly virginal and marriageable). Maybe they're all pacifists who abhor the violence writing about the French Revolution entails (probable, though the vast majority of heroes seem to be badass retired military).

I suspect the comments section of the post will continue growing, both with ideas about the whys and wherefores, and also with commentary about the book in question, which I confess I have not added to my TBR list. Too many books, not enough interest in this particular one despite the largely positive review. I also know that I tried to form a response in the comments section with my theory about this phenomenon, but a) it was too long and b) I realized I hadn't blogged in a while. So without further ado...

REASONS I THINK THERE IS A PRO-BRITISH, ANTI-FRENCH BIAS IN REGENCY/REVOLUTIONARY ROMANCES WRITTEN BY AMERICANS.

Small Print/My Qualifications For Addressing This Issue: I write as an attempted writer of romance, a long-time reader of romance, a person who lived in Paris for a year, and a person who dated a Brit for three years.

Firstly and foremostly, it is important to note the "written by Americans" part of the thesis (is that a thesis? I didn't make an argument. Mrs. Eriksen is going to kill me). The "written by Americans" is key because anything anti-French written by a Brit makes some sense (old habits and all that), but it makes no sense for our bias to play out this way. During the Regency period, we were at war with Britain (though it might not have been officially declared... I don't remember), and they burned down the White House. There was no Special Relationship, only sailor impressment and shore raids. Fun! Also the French Revolution, while bloody and brutal, was modelled on and inspired largely by our own Revolution, and it could be argued that theirs would not have played out the same way (if at all) if ours had not been so successful.

So we should have a natural inclination toward the French side in these matters, right?

HA!

Here's THE THING: While writing books with a pro-French bias would make more sense for American writers historically speaking, there is the entirely other matter of culturally speaking.

Most obviously, there's the fact that the French speak French. Books can most certainly be written for Americans/English speakers in English with the understanding that the characters are actually speaking French. But as a reader, when I realize that the characters are speaking a different language than what I'm reading I find it distracting, and as a writer I would be terrified of getting something wrong. Changing the language can change the entire tenor of someone's character. It changes their tone of voice, it changes their mannerisms, it can even change the way they look. Writing for a (major, fully fleshed-out) character in a language that is not the language that they're actually speaking is really intimidating to me as a fledgling writer, and I can't imagine it being a wholly comfortable concept for others.

Also, while there are obvious differences between American and British temperament (obvious, obvious differences), there are still many, many similarities. Possibly stemming from the shared language. But in general it's easier to get into the head of the Brit and to write their motives and personalities and not feel like you're making stuff up.

Eddie Izzard said it best when he said "I like the French, but they can be... fucking French." What does that mean? It means that they think differently from us. Not in a bad way, not in a wrong way, but in an incredibly generalized way. They value different things in their romances, in their sex, and in their expectations for relationships. They aren't nameable, definable differences. It's just about perceptions of what's important. It's cultural. And again, as a writer, I would feel like an absolute fraud trying to write about something I didn't understand, or trying to fake it.

You don't have to fake it as much writing Brits. Which is why any French-Revolutionary characters we run in to are usually women (at least they have that in common with the author), and have been Anglicized. Like in the book that was reviewed; the heroine is French, but raised in London, working for the British government. Or in Spymaster's Lady. It turns out the French spy in Joanna Bourne's most excellent Regency-period novel is... Welsh.

It's not really pro-or-anti anything, to be honest. It's about what and who is comfortable to write about. What's familiar, and what's not. And that's all I have to say about that.

In Which I Report a DNF

This post is to say that I did not finish (am not finishing? will not be finishing?) Mouth to Mouth by Erin McCarthy.

I'm not sure of the tense, because this is such a new decision that I am not sure it's fully formed yet.

Oh wait. Yes, now it is.

I was really looking forward to this book, mostly because I have (had) yet to meet an Erin McCarthy book I didn't like. I'm not nearly versed enough in her back catalog to fully endorse "anything she has written," but what I've read so far has been sexy and fun and enjoyable.

Mouth to Mouth is the story of Russ, a police detective in a midwest town (Milwaukee? Cleveland? I only just stopped reading the book about two hours ago, and I really don't remember) who is investigating a man who preys on women, gains their love/trust, and then steals all their money. Douchecanoe? Douchecanoe!

While staking out the next suspected victim (they found her name and contact info in papers left at the most recent victim's house... sloppy conman), Russ decides to "get a closer look" at the newest mark. She's gorgeous. And blond. And deaf. Lack of hearing ability aside, there is nothing to distinguish Laurel from her TSTL predecessors. She has money and has been in her shell since her dad died in her first year of college but is looking to bust out of her shell with some sex... stop me if you've heard this one before.

The other thing about Laurel is that she recognizes Russ as the guy she's supposed to be meeting for a blind-date-coffee thing at the coffee shop. Why? Because the conman has been assuming the identity of cops in the various areas he visits. He just coincidentally happens to be portraying Russ at this moment.

If you think this doesn't make sense, that might be because it... doesn't. The conman has assumed Russ' identity, which I guess is fine (if ballsy) (and awfully coincidental) but has also supplied Laurel with personal details (apparently someone the real Russ went to high school with put them in touch with one another? I'm fuzzy on the finer points) and a photograph. Of the real Russ. Who Laurel then recognizes when he coincidentally decides to go into the coffee shop to scope out the hot chick in the window. (Dear Conman: Assuming new identities is fun! But it only really makes sense when you substitute your own photograph. Right? Right!)

Too much coincidence? Yeah, that's what I thought, too.

As far as I can tell (from 106 pages), they don't even really like each other. Russ wants into her pants, but thinks she's a little dumb (or naive, as he uncondescendingly puts it). Laurel thinks he's a bit of an ass who is condescending. Yet thinks it's a really good idea to invite him into her bedroom the first time he (rather stalkerishly) comes over to her house. And also, thinks it's a good idea to string along the conman (now fully aware of his intentions) and to not really tell anyone about it.

All of this nonsense, combined with the truly irksome secondary story of Russ trying to raise his thirteen year old brother (a mopey, attitudial lame-o in need of a serious ass-kicking) meant Mouth to Mouth was abandoned early in favor of the Maya Banks book that was delivered to my doorstep today.

Which will hopefully end with a much happier entry.

Special shout-out to Wendy Pan for the following exchange-

Me: I'm not really loving this book.

Wendy Pan: It doesn't get better. It doesn't get worse, but it doesn't get better.

Me: I'm thinking about abandoning it for the new book that came today.

Wendy Pan: Do it.

See Wendy Pan? Your contributions could have saved me 106 pages of agony ;)

In Which I Finished Demon From the Dark, And Am Ready to Write My Review.

At some point, you're going to get tired of me writing about Kresley Cole. I just hope it's not today.

After battling fatigue and illness and general busy-ness (which I'm not technically supposed to be having yet), I finally finished Demon From the Dark last night. I aired my concerns about the future of the series here yesterday, and maybe it was the catharsis of speaking out, but I was able to put my head down and power through to the end.

I'll say up front that I was left totally relieved and re-energized about the series.

Let me back up and start with the plot summary. Carrow Graie, who was reported missing at the end of Pleasure of a Dark Prince, has been imprisoned for a week when the book opens. As suspected she's being held by something that closely resembles Whedon's The Initiative, only with a dash of secret religious order thrown in for fun (apparently these mortals rise up at each Accession, convinced that the immortals are going to war with them and not each other). The head of the compound where everyone is being held seems to have it out for Regin the Radiant, specifically, and is reportedly torturing her at every possible opportunity. Turns out he may just be her mysterious Berserker, after all. Whether or not he's under a spell or heavily medicated (and therefore being manipulated) remains to be seen.

The immediate deal presented to Carrow by her captors is simple: go and capture a vemon (half vampire/half demon... a new and artificially created species within the Lore), and they'll free her and her new charge. A word about this: We're supposed to believe that Ruby is an all-important witch child whose mother (now dead) is well-known within Carrow's coven. We've never heard of her. It's in situations like this that I wish there was a little more background to these characters and this world-- it wouldn't hurt to really deviate from the main characters and show us other things that are going on elsewhere throughout the books. Context after the fact doesn't really work for me.

Carrow agrees to the deal even though it's an obvious double-cross, mostly because they are threatening to outright kill the child if she refuses. So off we go to a new Hell dimension with the help of Lanthe, sister of Sabine the Queen of Illusions. When she reaches Oblivion, Carrow has little-to-no trouble finding Malkom, the aforementioned vemon, and despite huge language barriers and his obvious lack of civility (by which I mean he has not lived in civilization in over three hundred years), they manage to communicate and get naked in an expedited manner.

(I'm OK with this and willing to buy it... Cole evolves the characters reasonably within their tightened "we have to get this done in five days" timespan)

Malkom is an interesting figure, if a little close to J.R. Ward's Zsadist. As a child he was sold as a blood slave to a vampire and used for blood and sex repeatedly-- both by his Master and by his guests. When the book opens and we meet Malkom in his adult state, it has been quite some time since this occurred and he is reasonably "over it" (as much as one can be) though he understandably has serious trust issues.

Long story short, he is betrayed by a domestic enemy and turned over to still more vamps, where he is turned into a vemon. He kills his best friend (prince of Oblivion) and flees to the mountains where he lives as an abomination.

Despite all of this, he is a reasonable being. Lack of civilization for three hundred years aside, he adapts remarkably quickly to Carrow and soon remembers the finer points of interacting with people. He in no way carries the psychosis of the other vemons we've encountered (Hello, dumbass who got between Lachlain and Emma. How's your head? Still missing? Cool.) despite being tortured repeatedly throughout his life.

ANY. WAY. Of course Carrow has to betray him to get back to Ruby. Of course they are separated (though mercifully this is Kresley Cole, and everyone comes to reasonable and not at all outlandish conclusions in the end). Carrow and Malkom deal with his issues, we get us some Wroth brother action (Hi Conrad! I missed you like whoa), and in the end, the Accession is nigh. FINALLY.

Carrow and Malkom were a very nice couple. Not quite among my faves, but solid and well-written. It was a nice change to read about the dude being betrayed and having trust issues, but it was even nicer that he didn't have to be beaten over the head with a sharp object to get why Carrow did what she did. And I liked that Carrow knew she screwed up, and was willing to do whatever she could to help the situation. Per usual they could have had a couple of more honest conversations and taken care of a lot of tension, but overall I was never more than slightly irritated by their running around in circles.

Without giving away the finer points, the book more-or-less ends with half of our favorite people in the same room, on the same mission, trying to get to their loved ones who are now trapped on the island where the The Initiative (I mean, The Order) was located. This includes Sabine and Rydstrom, Garreth and Lucia, Myst and Nikolai, and Mariketa and Bowen. Would have loved some Emma and Lachlain and Holly and Cadeon, too, but I'll take what I can get. As long as over the next two books (one for Regin, one for Lanthe, and then NO MORE) things get wrapped up and we get to see all of our peeps being badass again, I'll be thoroughly satisfied.

I do need to mention that I'm very worried about Nix. Like, a lot. And I have a sinking feeling she's going to be fighting the Goddess of Evil all by herself.

You know what got me really pumped? I mean really, really pumped? HOLY ALPHA MALE THROWDOWN IN THE LIVING ROOM, BATMAN. That's all I have to say about that.

Dear Kresley Cole,

It's spelled "frak." Not "frack." Plus 20 cool points for correct usage. Minus 5 for spelling.

Thanks.

In Which I'm at a Kresley Cole Crossroads

I started reading Kresley Cole the summer her second book came out. In case you're forgetting, that was 2004.

I have no idea how I found her, where I found her, what author name/recommendation on Amazon led me to her doorstep, all I know is that from the moment I finished with those Sutherland brothers I was hook, line and sinkered.

Then there were the MacCarrick brothers, a trilogy I fell in love with, and though the second book was a disappointment, the third book more than made up for any disappointment (however minor) I had suffered.

When the paranormals started coming, I didn't want to read them. I didn't do paranormal, I insisted. And then I couldn't take the idea of not reading a Kresley Cole book for SO LONG (A Hunger Like No Other may have come out before the end of the MacCarrick brothers' trilogy, which kept getting pushed back... and back... and back...)

A Hunger Like No Other rocked my world and my socks simultaneously-- there was much rocking. It was like reading the fantasy books I enjoyed most in my youth... only with supersexy Alpha Lykae and lots and lots of hot sex. Perfection on a stick. And by the time that book was done, not only did I do Kresley Cole paranormal, but I was willing to try the entire subgenre, for better or for worse.

Four and a half years and nine books later, I'm a little bit worried about the state of the Immortals After Dark series. I talked about it before when I said I wasn't sure who Cole was going to write about next, and it turns out that the "last resort" characters I had identified are indeed the current and next books. I am in the middle of Demon From The Dark as we speak, and am enjoying it immensely, despite my earlier hesitation about how much I liked Carrow the Incarcerated. I'm not going to review the book now, but I do want to talk about some things that are making me... question.

(When I say I'm questioning, I am in no way considering a break up with the series or the author. Even at their worst, the IAD novels are solid, endearing romances with some badass heroines and really intriguing heroes. For the moment I am happy to continue reading them as long as Cole continues to deliver the goods.)

But with this book comes the introduction of (it seems like) dozens of new species, animals, dimensions, and possibilities. In the tenth book of the series, I find myself getting confused about the different Lorean creatures-- and frustrated that even characters in the Lore itself, characters who are over a thousand years old, seem to have never heard of some of these creatures, either.

This series is Kresley Cole's baby, and she's done a wonderful job with it. I question the (sort-of) desperation with which she is clinging to it. For example, it's really difficult to continue to appreciate old characters when we have to meet new ones in every book. Sure, there's cross-pollination, but I occasionally wonder why I had to meet some characters only to see them fade into the background. Doesn't bode well for re-read purposes. Also, ten books is a lot. It's a lot to follow the same characters over time (hi Charlaine Harris! J.D. Robb, how are you feeling today? Good? Good!), but it's really really a lot to keep track of all of these new and not-always-interconnecting characters. And while we (in real life) have experienced (at least) four and a half years, the books' timeline is... one year? Really disconcerting. Really really. All of this is to say nothing of the fact that, honestly, not every character needs/deserves their own book. Regin is next, and based on what I have read so far, Lanthe will be after that... I'm already exhausted thinking about how much longer this is going to be stretched out.

Now that I re-read this post, I recognize that it sounds a lot like my plea at the end of my Pleasure of a Dark Prince review. For that, I apologize. And perhaps, despite my reassurances to the contrary (to both myself and to you, dear reader) I am starting to have a serious problem with the direction of IAD. Maybe it's time for a post about breaking up with a series. We'll get there. But hopefully not with this series, and hopefully not soon.