Fuel

I'll be honest. I didn't read many books last year, partly because I was busy writing three of my own, and partly because I feel guilty when I read. I don't know why, but I always feel like I'm wasting time, even more egregiously than when I watch television. (Yes, I know. Sacrilege! And I should throw away my t.v. Yeah, whatever. Buffy.) I think it must go back to when I was a kid and I would sneak reading at every opportunity. There was always something else I was supposed to be doing. (And still is. I won't even tell you how long it's been since I cleaned this house.)

But words are fuel for writers, and I've been starving my poor writer-tum, so I'm making an effort to read more this year.

To that end, I'm going to keep a running tally of what I read—not for you, but for me, kind of like a dieting journal. Go ahead and be appalled at my reading choices if you must. I read what interests me.

So far this year:

Still working on: Nicholas and Alexandra by Robert K. Massie. I started reading this a year ago as research for The House of Arkhangel'sk, and it has been very difficult to get through, not because it isn't fascinating and masterfully written, but because it is. I pick it up, and in two minutes, tears are streaming down my face. I last put it down just after the Imperial family was put under house arrest and Tsarevich Alexei's formerly loving servant began treating him like an animal. I don't know why I feel so close to this tragedy, but it makes my heart ache with every word.

Finished: Mark of the Demon, Diana Rowland. First in an urban fantasy/police procedural series. Loved it. Can't wait for book two. I mean, female cop who happens to be a demonic summoner accidentally conjuring an inhumanly beautiful Demonic Lord who decides to seduce her instead of tearing her into tiny, bloody pieces as honor demands...what's not to like?

Currently reading: Fool Moon, book two of The Dresden Files by Jim Butcher. I don't have a copy of book one, which irks me, so I'm starting here. Initial impressions: enjoying it, but annoyed by the physical descriptions and stereotypical behaviors of some of the women, and really annoyed by Murphy's over-the-top assumptions of Harry's betrayal. I don't like it when characters are treated so unfairly by their supposed friends. I wouldn't tolerate it in real life, and it makes me mad on the character's behalf, and not it in a "you've really sucked me into this story" kind of way, but a "you'd better stop this or I'm throwing the book at the wall" kind of way.

Hoping to get around to reading: Dostoevsky's The Idiot, and hoping not to take as long as I took in reading Demons last year. It would have been a lot easier to keep up with the patronymics and remember who had done what to whom if I hadn't waited a week between every ten pages. (I have to stop considering my commute as my only reading time since I now only work at the office one day a week.) Even so, it was lovely, wickedly funny, and horribly depressing. I adored it.

Really psyched about reading: The White Road, book five in the Nightrunner series by Lynn Flewelling. Jumping-up-and-down psyched: I will be cruising the Bahamas with Lynn for its debut! (Not as her personal friend or anything, just joining her Writing on the Waves writing seminar at sea, which is, like, the most awesome idea ever...and has clearly regressed me to '80s teenspeak. And I think the video below in Making Me Mental really applies here as well.)