I'm sitting in a Starbucks, in the vast thickness of suburban pretentiousness, just to set the stage. The barista is Barbie with a chip. The ar-tist in front of me has a tie through his belt loops and a green John Deere stocking cap. Some poor sac next to me just snuck in here for the free wi-fi. And me? I have only thirty minutes, so my mood is somewhat dicey.
I desperately want to tell everyone about The Hunger Games, but I detest book reviews. Writing them, not reading them. Why should I give a summary when others before me have done it so thoroughly and eloquently? What can I offer that a hundred other gushers on Amazon haven't? Maybe this: I rarely recommend books here at The Vortex. The longer I travel down this writer's journey, the more disenfranchised I get with finding what pleases me as a reader. (Poor sac just relocated for prime plug real estate. Still, no drink, but a napkin run. Hmmm.) I want the romance of picking up a book, or, now, my plum colored Nook, and I want the language to whisper sweet nothings of brilliance in my ear. I want to be moved to tears and forget to eat a meal and sneak moments with it in an illicit affair of the mind. Rarely, anymore, does that happen.
So you'll forgive me if I don't give you a plot summary. It should be enough to tell you I had such an affair with The Hunger Games. Yes, I know I'm three years behind release date. Had B&N equipped the last page of my digital readout with a button that read "Buy the next book in the series", I would have been all up into that impulse buy. (Seriously, why don't they?) I didn't want the affair to end, so I Googled it. Maybe I wanted to make sure my judgement was good...that this love didn't have a baldy head or a visible booger. Maybe I secretly hoped there would be a movie that would forever ruin the perfection in my mind; but, hey, it would be something. (Poor sac now has a drink, a caffeine-free Dr. Pepper. Cheater.) Maybe it recaptured all I loved about The Giver and The Lottery and The Village and rolled them up into one spongy Little Debbie snack cake of goodness. Maybe you should just read it. (Poor sac now has Flaming Hot Doritos next to aforementioned Dr. Pepper.)
While John Deere Green Jeans sketches away and Barbie plays Cinderella with a broom and Poor sac licks residue from his fingers, click over and read a
legitimate book review and decide if
The Hunger Games is your cup of coffee. Or salted caramel hot chocolate (moi). Or Dr. Pepper. And if you are feeling a kinship with Poor sac and have a Nook, email me. My kindergarten teacher always said I shared best.
And, who doesn't love Suzanne Collins's pitch line: Gladiator meets Project Runway.
Today's
Pomodoros: 7!! Holy Flaming Hot Doritos, she's on revision fire.
Exactly waht I want from a book too, although I don't find it as often as I used to. A combination of experience maybe, and just a little bit of being jaded. But when I do get lost in a book it is such a wonderful feeling.