![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Postponing the Inevitable
Jun. 6th, 2006 10:37 pmIt's late-ish in the evening, and I'm sitting here playing silly games on my computer in a desperate attempt to avoid what is waiting for me in the next room. Of course, this is incredibly ridiculous, since the awaiting torment is self-imposed, and by avoiding it I am, in fact, also postponing my own reward.
Last week I was very bad. I fell off the Laurell K. Hamilton bandwagon. It wasn't my fault, honestly. But I've gone through every decent unabridged book on tape my library has to offer, and I found that they have most of the Anita Blake series on tape available through Interlibrary Loan. Every one, in fact, except the one after the last one I read. And so, of course, I had to borrow that missing book and read it, not for its own sake, but so I could have amusing listening material for my summer drives to and from work.
The book is just as bad as I remember the rest of the series being. Trite, tawdry, self-indulgent, and full of some of the weakest and most unnecessary self-justification and excuse-making I have ever seen committed to paper, but still somehow vaguely entertaining enough for me to have read my way through a shameful amount of the series. And I can work my way through this one, with the assurance from friends that the series eventually does improve.
Everything was fine, as a matter of fact, until I started browsing through Barnes and Noble this weekend and found the new Charles DeLint hardcover.
I'm fairly particular about books. I can read more than one book at a time, and I have, but I much prefer to read one book start-to-finish before starting in on another. It's a lot like finishing dinner before starting dessert; I want to appreciate each thing on its own merits, and wallow in it, and experience every detail of it, rather than splitting my attention. I also don't like to quit books halfway through - if I start something, I should be tenacious enough to finish it.
And so now the Laurell Hamilton novel has transformed from 'something amusing and entertaining, in a mock-worthy way' to 'that obstacle between me and several hundred pages of exquisite urban fantasy by my favoritest author ever.' It is so much wilted, overcooked literary spinach, and even though there is delicious DeLint dessert waiting for me after I soldier on through it, I have been obstinately dragging my heels and avoiding it from sheer frustration ever since. The fact that this is not bringing me any closer to the new book is not lost on me, but somehow doesn't matter to the part of my brain devoted to avoidance behavior.
One more game of Spider Solitaire, then maybe I'll tackle another chapter....
Last week I was very bad. I fell off the Laurell K. Hamilton bandwagon. It wasn't my fault, honestly. But I've gone through every decent unabridged book on tape my library has to offer, and I found that they have most of the Anita Blake series on tape available through Interlibrary Loan. Every one, in fact, except the one after the last one I read. And so, of course, I had to borrow that missing book and read it, not for its own sake, but so I could have amusing listening material for my summer drives to and from work.
The book is just as bad as I remember the rest of the series being. Trite, tawdry, self-indulgent, and full of some of the weakest and most unnecessary self-justification and excuse-making I have ever seen committed to paper, but still somehow vaguely entertaining enough for me to have read my way through a shameful amount of the series. And I can work my way through this one, with the assurance from friends that the series eventually does improve.
Everything was fine, as a matter of fact, until I started browsing through Barnes and Noble this weekend and found the new Charles DeLint hardcover.
I'm fairly particular about books. I can read more than one book at a time, and I have, but I much prefer to read one book start-to-finish before starting in on another. It's a lot like finishing dinner before starting dessert; I want to appreciate each thing on its own merits, and wallow in it, and experience every detail of it, rather than splitting my attention. I also don't like to quit books halfway through - if I start something, I should be tenacious enough to finish it.
And so now the Laurell Hamilton novel has transformed from 'something amusing and entertaining, in a mock-worthy way' to 'that obstacle between me and several hundred pages of exquisite urban fantasy by my favoritest author ever.' It is so much wilted, overcooked literary spinach, and even though there is delicious DeLint dessert waiting for me after I soldier on through it, I have been obstinately dragging my heels and avoiding it from sheer frustration ever since. The fact that this is not bringing me any closer to the new book is not lost on me, but somehow doesn't matter to the part of my brain devoted to avoidance behavior.
One more game of Spider Solitaire, then maybe I'll tackle another chapter....
