I find it puzzling that the timeline shows that the “average adult” can read 300 words per minute (wpm), but the average speed reader can read 1500 wpm. Interestingly enough, college professors, college students, and even high level executives can apparently read almost (or more than) twice the national average for your regular adult. Twice the speed seems remarkably high to me. Is it that there are just simply so many “average adults” who do not read at all if they can help it? If so, this makes me sad.

You can click here to take the test yourself, if you’d like to. For the record, they call it an “e-reader test”. I’m not certain what the difference between this and your traditional book is supposed to be, or exactly what they’re trying to get out of calling it such — except, possibly, additional e-reader sales out of some misguided “proof” that people can read faster digitally?? You’ll have to decide that for  yourself.

In the interest of disclosure, I took the test twice. The first time I scored 422 wpm, which is 69% faster than the national average. After reading the page it gives you, they ask you 3 questions to test your comprehension. I missed one of the questions my first time through, and I was afraid that I had skimmed despite trying not to, so I took it again. The second time, I was given a different page but recognized it as being from Alice in Wonderland, and scored slightly faster at 74% above the national average or 434 wpm.

Feel free to take the test and post your scores here. I’d love to know how I measure up against a group of real readers.

Throne of the Crescent Moon is the debut novel from Saladin Ahmed, who has been a finalist for both the Nebula and Campbell awards. It was released February 7th, 2012 by DAW books.

The Blurb

The Crescent Moon Kingdoms, land of djenn and ghuls, Khalifs and killers, is on the brink of civil war. To make things worse, a series of brutal supernatural murders strikes at the heart of the Kingdoms. And it’s up to Doctor Adoulla Makhslood to solve them.

“The last real ghul hunter in the great city of Dhamsawaat,” Adoulla just wants a quiet cup of tea. But when an old flame’s family is murdered, he is drawn back to the hunter’s path. Recruiting old companions and new, Adoulla races against time–and struggles against his own misgivings–to discover a plot for the Throne of the Crescent Moon that threatens to turn Dhamsawaat, and the world itself, into a blood-soaked ruin. [On Goodreads]

The Review

Y’know. I had this whole 2,000 word review all typed up where I ranted about a review of this book that, essentially, called it misogynistic and shit writing. But I don’t feel like editing that crazy rage-fest.

So here’s what I’ll say instead: that review was wrong. So very, very wrong. I admit, there was one moment while reading this book where I had a fly-off-the-handle-feminist moment. Then, I took a step back, a deep breath, and realized that one stray thought by a character balanced against the incredible ass-kicking action of all the females in this book makes my initial knee-jerk invalid.

Does this novel fail the Bechdel test? Erm. Without double checking to be 100% sure, I’m gonna say – yeah, it does. Are there about a bajillion other fantasy novels out there that are also Bechdel fails but that are just as worthy of a read? Also yep.

So why read this one? Because it’s worthy in a different way. Ditch your European-grown fantasy roots and saddle up for something a little more “birthplace of civilization” flavored. Did I fall in love with this novel? I have to admit that, no, I didn’t. Did I enjoy it? Yep, quite thoroughly actually and I found it completely worth the time I invested in it.

There’s just one piece of my rage-fest rant that I have to relate here. One of the beefs the review I read had (and to which I am not going to link to here) was that one of the main female characters is a sort of were-lion and her powers are inaccessible to her during menses. So, of course, there was a bit of feminist rage about “OMG why does she have to be powerless three days out of the month simply because she’s a woman that’s so misogynistic!!!1!one” (paraphrasing, not a direct quote).

To which I say:

1) Traditional mythology, fable, and even other fantasy books all have tons of references  to a woman’s power being tied to her menstrual cycle. This is not new, and ranting simply because a MAN dared to use it as a plot device is, frankly, in my opinion very silly.

2) Why do we even have to look at it as “She’s being stripped of her power for being a woman!” at all? For one: her power is being limited, which can only be a good thing. She is still a bad-ass, shape-shifting lion who kicks ALL KIND OF ASS during all the crazy fight scenes. (Seriously – super exciting fight scenes!) Remember “absolute power corrupts absolutely”? How about, “unlimited power makes for a boring fucking character”? (Hm. Sounds like something Chuck Wendig would say, but I digress.) Her power is being limited in a way that not only makes sense within the confines of the world, but it’s being done in such a manner that she’s forced to look at the world not as an animal but as a human being and, yes, a woman. Which brings me to my next point…

3) Why is it okay for other fantasy writers (even men) to write werewolves as creatures who are tied to the same sort of lunar cycle but not in this case? Because this author came right out and tied it to menses instead of being coy about it? Honestly, I’d rather have it this way. At least it gives some sort of vaguely scientific reasoning – more so than “the moon made her turn into a monster!”.

Creating a strong feminine character doesn’t mean stripping her of everything that makes her a woman. In fact, that’s quite the opposite. I see the author here creating a character who, while being constrained by the fact that yes, she is actually female, works within those limitations to become that much more powerful. Which is how it works in real life, isn’t it?

Bottom line: do you want another cookie-cutter, leather-wearing, bed-hopping Bond knock-off with an X chromosome or would you like to maybe see an actual girl dealing with all the things a girl has to deal with? Which includes, for those unwilling to face it (both in fantasy reviews and in modern politics!), menstruation and thinking about child-bearing.

Argh. I swore I wouldn’t rant, and I did it anyway.

One of my favorite things about this book is that our heroes are mostly old people (there are a couple of young ones, a displaced youth and an apprentice, but they are rash and young and smartly idiotic in the way that only teenagers really can be). It’s refreshing to see a fantasy that ISN’T a coming-of-age story. Our hero, Adoulla, is around sixty and world-weary and feeling ready for his long-overdue  (at least in his opinion) dirt-nap when we meet him. There is a charm to the elderly in that they are fearless and unafraid of looking foolish (whether it is being overly sentimental about worldly possessions or absurdly proud of their own flatulence). This book captures that perfectly, and I hope to have 1/10th the sass at that age that any of these characters do.

Just read this book. Especially if you enjoy unique fantasy settings, such as N.K. Jemisin’s The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms or Brandon Sanderson’s A Way of Kings. It’s worth it, and it’s a fraction of the size of other door-stopper fantasies written by the likes of Rothfuss, Jordan, Sanderson, et al. You can read it in a weekend, form your own opinion, and wedge your mind open just the tiniest of fractions. It’ll be good for you. But don’t take it from me. Read the damned book already and stop taking advice from opinionated strangers on the internet!

I liked the book. I didn’t love it the way that it is obvious that many people did, but I liked it. Ever since it was read to us in school, way back in the days of story time and laboriously hand-printing individual letters out on broad-lined paper, I’ve liked the book.

So when I mentioned briefly, over the lunch table today, I expected to hear things like, “Oh, wow. I used to really like that book.” Or, “I still love that book.” I’d have even been happy with, “I’ve never heard of him, but that sucks.” For the most part, those are the reactions I received. Except one.

This is that exchange.

“Oh, I’ve never seen that.”

“… They made a movie out of it. But it’s a book. I’m talking about the guy who wrote it. It’s a kid’s book.”

“No, I don’t read that stuff.”

“It’s a really popular kid’s picture book. They read it in school’s all the time.”

“No, really, I don’t read things like that.”

Each time, the words were said with a sneer. It was very nearly a hateful sneer, and this isn’t the first time I’ve gotten it. When I mentioned wanting to go see The Hunger Games, to see if it matched the book, I got the sneer. Whenever I mention a book I may be reading, I get the sneer. The Handmaid’s Tale? Sneer. The Avengers movie? Sneer.

The most messed up part of this is: this girl watched Twilight. But she didn’t watch it because she was a fan. She didn’t watch it because she was passionate about it. It’s obvious she watched it because it was popular and she’s a follower.

There are certain people who are so sheltered and so prejudiced in their opinions (and I’m not mentioning names here specifically because I’m not fond of libel suits and this paragraph does not necessarily relate at all to the person mentioned above, just to be perfectly clear) that they can’t see anything else. It’s such a narrow scope.

Like the girl who doesn’t read fiction because she “doesn’t believe in make believe” and only wants to hear about things that happen “in real life”. Well, good luck with all those serial killer biographies then. I’d much rather read about fantasy monsters than real ones. Like the guy who doesn’t read about vampires or zombies because “they’re stupid”, not realizing and not willing to hear that these creatures are metaphors for humanity’s own darkness. Not wanting to believe that genre fiction can say anything true or real.

Well, genre fiction is true. It’s more real most of the time then any crappy Nicholas Sparks book you could pick up. The Belgariad taught me values. The Rowan showed me that women can be more than baby-making machines — though there’s no harm in being that *and* saving the world while you’re at it. I Am Legend taught me that there’s two sides to every story. The Dark is Rising and A Wrinkle in Time taught me that science and truth and good can triumph over evil. The Wheel of Time brought me out of one of the darkest times in my life.

I could name dozens more. I bet you could too.

So all I’m saying is… If you’re one of those people who maybe wouldn’t read this or see that or enjoy whatever? Just unclench. Open your mind. Be willing to see value where maybe you didn’t expect it before. And if you want to be friends? Don’t fucking sneer at me.

Here’s a thing for you: My Blackbirds review got a mention over at Terrible Minds. That squee you heard was the squee heard round the world. Seeing my blog linked there was sort of like Christmas — except with booze instead of presents and lots of swear words instead of O Holy Night. So it was like Christmas, but better. I waited all day to come home and say that. I hope you’re happy. (I know I am.)

Here’s another thing.

My apartment building has a stray cat for a mascot. No one’s really sure who he belongs to, but someone got him a nice dog cat house and set it in the woods near the parking lot. He has his own bowl and everything. We don’t even know the cat’s name, despite the fact that he’s been hanging around for the last three or four years.

So my husband, the Artist, calls him “Hef”, after (of course) Hugh Hefner. Why? Because of the attitude, man. This cat is popular with the “molly”‘s (which Wikipedia tells me is the term for a female feline). Hef has lady cats following him around at regular intervals, but when he’s not living it up with a foxy female, he’s usually sprawled on his stomach in the middle of the parking lot.

Photo by turtlemom4bacon, who has an awesome username. This cat is not Hef, but looks like him.

This cat has no fear. He routinely sprawls right in the center of the drive between parking spaces, and does not deign to move when a car pulls in. He’ll glare at you – haughtily – as you park and extricate yourself from your heavy metal death-dealing machine. Then he’ll yawn and go back to grooming himself, as if to say, “Of course you will work around me, for I am King, pesky monkey-thing.”

Seriously. I can hear him thinking it. Damn cat.

You can view a full-size version of not-Hef at Flickr by clicking on the picture to the left.

What was the point of this story? Simple. I didn’t have one. I was just illustrating the point that it’s my blog, and I’ll say what I want. And I’d have gotten away with it, too, if it hadn’t been for you meddling kids.

The Blurb

Miriam Black knows when you will die. She’s foreseen hundreds of car crashes, heart attacks, strokes, and suicides.

But when Miriam hitches a ride with Louis Darling and shakes his hand, she sees that in thirty days Louis will be murdered while he calls her name. Louis will die because he met her, and she will be the next victim.

No matter what she does she can’t save Louis. But if she wants to stay alive, she’ll have to try. [Goodreads]

The Review

Blackbirds is a hauntingly macabre book. It was so intense that I read it in two nights, which I spread over three days. I had to take a night off in the middle just to recover from all the violence. This book is not for the faint of heart. It is ugly and vicious and cruel, actually, and that fingernail’s edge of hope that Wendig gives us may not be enough for some readers.

The prose is visceral and brutally beautiful. Miriam is a wonderfully flawed character who moves through her life like a tidal wave. Her path rains destruction down on everyone around her, but she is helpless to stop it. Imagine knowing that the people kindest to you in your life are destined to die horribly and the more you try to stop it, the more inevitable that death is. Now imagine living with that for a few years.

Miriam’s story is a disturbing and fascinating look at the fatal romance of inevitability and finality. In fact, “fatal” is the perfect word for Miriam. She’s caught in the twin grips of fate and death. No. Not death, but dying. That’s an important distinction. Miriam’s “gift”  is not concerned with what comes after life, but only with those final, horrifying moments of leaving it. 

Wendig does dark and brutal very, very well. His Atlanta Burns novella, Shotgun Gravy was similar in tone. I now find myself perversely wishing that I could read a light-hearted Wendig story, just for contrast sake.

Rating: ★★★★☆ 

The Blurb

Army Officer. Fugitive. Sorcerer. 

Across the country and in every nation, people are waking up with magical talents. Untrained and panicked, they summon storms, raise the dead, and set everything they touch ablaze. 

Army officer Oscar Britton sees the worst of it. A lieutenant attached to the military’s Supernatural Operations Corps, his mission is to bring order to a world gone mad. Then he abruptly manifests a rare and prohibited magical power, transforming him overnight from government agent to public enemy number one. 

The SOC knows how to handle this kind of situation: hunt him down–and take him out. Driven into an underground shadow world, Britton is about to learn that magic has changed all the rules he’s ever known, and that his life isn’t the only thing he’s fighting for.

My Review

This is a military urban fantasy in the same way that there is military science fiction: lots of jargon, weapons, battles, and explosions. I like the themes of this book. I dislike our point of view character. Some of the background action isn’t clearly explained, which puzzles me. I will definitely be reading the next one.

This book drops you right into the middle of the action, which is a bit disconcerting when explosions are going off and a lot of new terminology is thrown at you. I mean “drops” literally, too. Our main character, Oscar, lands in a helicopter on the roof of a flaming school building in the very first pages – right into the middle of a battle. Just afterward, his forbidden talent manifests and we join him in hurtling from one disaster to another, too disoriented to do much but hang on and try to enjoy the ride.

There is a big theme here that examines what I (never having been in the military) must assume is a common internal conflict for soldiers between following orders and following their own internal moral code. When your officers (or government) declare as your enemy people who it appears are, well, people, it must be a hard thing to reconcile those two images and be able to rest easy at night.

What if the people declared ”enemies” are fellow Americans? Pacifist tribes of kind, intelligent – though non-human – creatures? Cute young teenage girls? At what point do the good intentions of a massive bureaucracy cross into the realm of oppression and murder?  I don’t know the answer to that question, but it’s the asking of it that matters.

The plot premise is good and the world-building is excellent (even if we don’t see too much of it). There’s even a bit of a surprise toward the end that I didn’t see coming at all. The book asks smart questions that had my brain chewing over them a long time after I put it down. Not only are there questions about the internal conflicts of being a solider, but also about what exactly makes us human. These questions have been asked before – most similarly in the X-Men universe – but it’s important to keep asking them until we either find the real answer or until we are truly no longer human. This book does an excellent job of that, and I foresee that getting more intense in subsequent novels.

The only downside I found in the story was the fact that I’m not sure if I liked Oscar. Our narrator is a bit of a whiner, and he is so focused on his own problems that it directly causes a good portion of the subsequent disasters that fall on the Shadow company team. The irony is that he spends a lot of the book worrying about others, but only in the context of his own situation.

For instance, early in the book there is a sort of “accident” with Oscar’s talent and it causes an event that leads to (presumably, as it’s off-camera) his father’s death. Now, Daddy was an abusive asshole, but the only time Oscar ever feels guilt about causing this death is when he thinks about what his mother must think of him now. It’s made pretty clear that he doesn’t feel badly that his father is actually dead – only that he now has to deal with the consequences of that death.

This is only one example, and probably the worst one since there’s a reason Oscar wouldn’t feel badly over this death. Further examples are a bit spoiler-y, but trust me when I say that once put in context with the other disasters Oscar causes, it’s pretty clear. This man is, if not selfish, then at the very least extremely self-centered. Obviously this gives the character room to learn and grow, so I’m willing to overlook my irritation when measured against the larger story.

I enjoyed this book, and the less-than-completely sympathetic main character was not much of a detriment when measured against the fascinating world. I’m not going to jump into reading a bunch more military fiction, but I will certainly follow this series and this author.

The Blurb

Thirty-year-old Zoe leads an ordinary life until the end of the world arrives. She is cleaning cages and floors at Pope Pharmaceuticals when the President of the United States announces that human beings are no longer a viable species. When Zoe realizes that everyone she loves is disappearing, she starts running. Scared and alone in a shockingly changed world, she embarks on a remarkable journey of survival and redemption. Along the way, Zoe comes to see that humans are not defined by their genetic code, but rather by their actions and choices. White Horse offers hope for a broken world, where love can lead to the most unexpected places. [GoodReads]

The Review

This book was a little more “literary” and a lot less fun then most stuff I’ve read lately. Sure, the end of the world isn’t exactly an uplifting subject, and the story does say a lot about human nature, hope, love, and despair. But Laura Anne Gilman’s Dragon Virus touched all those points, too, and she did it better, to boot. You may recall me saying that Gilman’s story was pretty bleak. Well, Dragon Virus was a beacon of hope compared to White Horse.

That’s not to say there’s no value in this. If you are less fond of the fantastic then you are of realism, Adams’ book is not much more far-fetched then a near-future imagining. If you need allegory in your novels, or haven’t been able to quite leave your college literature classes behind, then you may enjoy this one better than I did. Some of the blurbs accompanying it have compared it to Cormac McCarthy – and since I’ve never read him, I have no reason to think they’re lying. Which explains why McCarthy has never crossed my radar before. 

The book is well-written, and though I found Zoe a dry character, she’s not an unsympathetic one. The way the narrative jumps back and forth between “then” and “now” until the two time-lines coincide was obviously done so for impact. Unfortunately, it also kept me from becoming really engaged with Zoe’s character. Further, some of the events in the book seem almost more for shock value then to move the plot forward. They do do that, but they seem sort of shoe-horned in, not having evolved naturally.

I didn’t hate it, but I did find it disturbing and depressing. If you like your literature fantastic and with more prose than plot, you may enjoy this one better than I did.

This is the second book in Helen Lowe’s The Wall of Night series. It was released March 27th in the US.

The Blurb

Garrisoned by the Nine Houses of the Derai, the towering mountain range called the Wall of Night is all that separates the people of Haarth from the terrible Darkswarm.

Five years have passed since the Wall was breached and the Keep of Winds nearly overrun. Five years since the Heir of Night, Malian, and her friend and ally Kalan went missing in the wild lands of Jaransor.

Now, in Haarth’s diverse southern realms, events are moving. From the wealthy River city of Ij to the isolated Emerian outpost of Normarch, rumors of dark forces and darker magics are growing. As the great Midsummer tournament at Caer Argent approaches, Haarth will have one opportunity to band together against an enemy in which few believe . . . or be lost forever. [Barnes&Noble]

The Review

Lowe writes in jigsaw puzzle pieces. Each book is a story unto itself but also reveals only a small, tantalizing bit of the larger story. I thought I knew what that larger story was after the first book. I was sure I knew the ultimate goals, and after finishing book two the only thing I’m sure of is that I knew nothing. I both admire her technique (as a writer) and hate it endlessly (as a reader). Her books are tidbits, small tastes of a glorious feast and it is torture to wait so long between mouthfuls.

I admit that I read the first few chapters of the book completely bewildered by everything. Here was a whole new set of characters that had never been mentioned before. I started to wonder if I had even remembered the earlier book’s plot correctly at all. After awhile, I was nearly frustrated enough to put the thing down. Where was Malian, the Heir of Night, our heroine from the first book? Dead, came the rumor, whispered through the pages. I was horrified that perhaps the rumor was correct and the series would now go in a completely different direction.

Then, just before I decided to throw the thing down forever, there trod back onto the pages the Heralds from the previous book: Tarathan of Ar and Jehane Mor. Okay, I thought to myself, maybe this is going somewhere after all. I’ll give it just a little while longer. The new story was fascinating, after all, even if it wasn’t what I had expected. Even if I had no idea how it related to the previous book at all.

Just as I had settled in to reading about nearly a whole new set of characters, the sucker punch came flying. I would like to say that I saw it coming, but that would be a lie. It knocked me on my ass! I won’t tell you what it is, because that would ruin the surprise (and hey, I don’t want to be the only one sitting here all stunned and dismayed and delighted, now do I?) Suffice to say that things are not what they seem in this book. Not at all.

From that moment, I was committed to finishing this book that I had thought I would put down forever. When I first finished it, I felt like the story hadn’t advanced at all, and I was a bit disappointed. What had they accomplished of the original goals of the story? It didn’t feel like very much. More and more obstacles were thrown in the paths of our heroes, and it seemed like they were worse off than ever.

After having some time to dwell on it, I have to say… That I was absolutely correct. Our heroes are further from accomplishing their goals than they ever were. Instead of going forward, the story has progressed in a direction that I hadn’t expected. But I’m no longer disappointed by that. It has grown deeper, wider. What we have now is no longer simply a traditional hero’s journey with a new twist. The Heir of Night was a book all about seclusion, isolation, and walking lonely paths with few allies.

The Gathering of the Lost is completely different and new. It is a book about companions: friendships and everything that those things entail. We see loyalty, betrayal, lust and love. The story didn’t go as far forward in length as I would have liked, but what it did not it made up for in sheer breadth and scope. The more I consider it, the more I realize that this book completely changed the game. And that is amazing. Lowe has managed to shake the very foundations of her world (for the reader, at least, as presumably she knew this was coming all along), while paradoxically remaining true to the expectations she laid out in the very first book.

I honestly don’t have any idea how she managed it, which just goes to show that as a writer I have much to learn. As a reader, I will be gnashing my teeth in wait for the next volume. That is the trouble with reading advanced copies of things. It seems like you have to wait even longer for the next one!

The Blurb

Ghoulies. Ghosties. Long-legged beasties. Things that go bump in the night…

The Price family has spent generations studying the monsters of the world, working to protect them from humanity-and humanity from them. Enter Verity Price. Despite being trained from birth as a cryptozoologist, she’d rather dance a tango than tangle with a demon, and is spending a year in Manhattan while she pursues her career in professional ballroom dance. Sounds pretty simple, right? It would be, if it weren’t for the talking mice, the telepathic mathematicians, the asbestos supermodels, and the trained monster-hunter sent by the Price family’s old enemies, the Covenant of St. George. When a Price girl meets a Covenant boy, high stakes, high heels, and a lot of collateral damage are almost guaranteed.

To complicate matters further, local cryptids are disappearing, strange lizard-men are appearing in the sewers, and someone’s spreading rumors about a dragon sleeping underneath the city… [Goodreads]

The Review

I found this such a refreshing, engaging read. Verity Price is my kind of girl… Well, except for that whole ballroom dancing thing. Very is an independent woman with a long family line who’s trying to balance her family’s expectations with her own wants and dreams. She’s tough and smart, but also human. No crazy powers, no desperate flaw in her character. In fact, she’s just a nice, normal girl. Not counting the excessive weaponry, jumping off of buildings, slutty work uniform, and chanting religious mice in her living room, that is.

So like I said – she’s my kind of girl.

I also love that Very’s family is a group of hereditary cryptozoologists. The combination of supernatural and science is a new and enticing allure. Each chapter also includes a wise quote from one of what I believe is Very’s ancestors. They include such anecdotes as:

A lady is never truly embarrassed. And if she is, a lady is never gauche enough to leave survivors.

As well as:

A proper lady should be able to smile pretty, wear sequins like she means it, and kick a man’s ass nine ways from Sunday while wearing stiletto heels. If she can’t do that much, she’s not trying hard enough.

This is on top of Verity’s own astute – and hilarious – observations of city life. She’s warm, she’s personal… She can hide a gun in a tango dress. She’s more fun than an entire New York subway system full of dragons! I recommend you run out right now and get this book. I can’t imagine a world where you’d regret it.

The Blurb

Now that the threat of war has passed, Sabina Kane is ready to focus on the future. Her relationship with Adam Lazarus is getting stronger and she’s helping her sister, Maisie, overcome the trauma of her captivity in New Orleans. Even Giguhl is managing to stay out of trouble thanks to the arrival of Pussy Willow and his new roller derby team. But as much as Sabina wants to feel hopeful about the future, part of her doesn’t trust that peace is possible. 

Her suspicions are confirmed when a string of sadistic murders threaten to stall treaty negotiations between the mages and the vampires. Sabina pitches in to find the killer, but her investigation soon leads her down dark paths that have her questioning everyone she thought she could trust. And the closer she gets to the killer, the more Sabina begins to suspect this is one foe she may not be able to kill. [GoodReads]

The Review

The first 90% of this book was soap-opera drama that didn’t move the story forward much at all. If you’ve read the earlier books in the series, you already know that Sabina set herself up for failure in her relationship from the beginning and in this book it finally came home to roost. With no clear enemy this time, Sabina is instead pitted against the new head vampire’s right-hand girl – a girl who has essentially taken Sabina’s original place. That leads to a bunch of posturing and threats and not a lot else.

The real goal is to find the person – vamp, mage or other – who is driving a wedge with grisly murder through the fragile peace Sabina created. Instead, Sabina bungles the investigation, spending time dealing with the relationship issues of herself and her friends, and letting those distract her even from watching out for her sister’s mental health.

As I said in my last review, I’ve been waiting for a reason to drop this series off my shelf. I’m not really sure what it is about Sabina that irritates me so, but it’s there nonetheless. Unfortunately for my book shelf, the last 10% of this book pulled off a complete turn around and a sucker punch that was way better and less predictable than that crappy movie of the same name.

As much as I would like to strangle Sabina and re-enact the very first scene of the series myself in some deep, dark wood, I’m still invested in how all this is going to turn out. I can’t give you a better endorsement then, “this series keeps me reading even against my will.”