Books 2010: where has all the fun gone?
Jul. 9th, 2010 06:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hawkwing_lbBooks 2010: 62-63
62. Karen Traviss, Star Wars: Imperial Commando: 501st.
There is some fun in this novel. Not enough, but some.
63. Jacqueline Carey, Naamah's Curse
You know, I normally like Carey's books. The travelogue aspect is usually at least interesting, and normally reasonably entertaining - but here, it dragged. It dragged, and suffered, and there was far, far too much angst.
I mean, I know the Terre d'Ange books are made of angst. But this was that doubled. Tripled. And with shockingly little fun.
Can I please have books that don't take themselves too seriously again soon? Because I'm tired of rereading my comfort books because of the doom and gloom and lack of interesting worldbuilding and characters in the new ones.
I still can't write. Possibly this is because I'm sick. Possibly it's because I have a blockage in my head. And maybe it's because I can't work up the emotional investment to write something that I actually care about, and haven't been able to for what feels like - is? - months.
Ah, well. My head'll fix itself, or it won't. No point in worrying about it now.
62. Karen Traviss, Star Wars: Imperial Commando: 501st.
There is some fun in this novel. Not enough, but some.
63. Jacqueline Carey, Naamah's Curse
You know, I normally like Carey's books. The travelogue aspect is usually at least interesting, and normally reasonably entertaining - but here, it dragged. It dragged, and suffered, and there was far, far too much angst.
I mean, I know the Terre d'Ange books are made of angst. But this was that doubled. Tripled. And with shockingly little fun.
Can I please have books that don't take themselves too seriously again soon? Because I'm tired of rereading my comfort books because of the doom and gloom and lack of interesting worldbuilding and characters in the new ones.
I still can't write. Possibly this is because I'm sick. Possibly it's because I have a blockage in my head. And maybe it's because I can't work up the emotional investment to write something that I actually care about, and haven't been able to for what feels like - is? - months.
Ah, well. My head'll fix itself, or it won't. No point in worrying about it now.
