The Casual Vacancy and The Queen of the Tearling

I have always loved to read. I have very early memories of reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar, The Secret Three, Island of the Blue Dolphins, Holes…

I can’t remember a period in my life where I went more than a month without reading. It’s like words fuel my body. I love The Grapes of the Wrath and The Jungle and Daisy Miller and Wuthering Heights. I love Harry Potter and the Gemma Doyle trilogy and Macbeth. I love Unbroken, The Storyteller, The Life of Pi.

I will read almost anything I can get my hands on – which is why I was so disappointed when two books – TWO -in a row really failed me. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined that JK Rowling would write something that would make me want to rip my hair out, but by chapter 3 of The Casual Vacancy, I knew this was not the book for me. It’s not like it wasn’t well written. The words made sense and it was constructed well. But it was not for me, so I – feeling very much like a quitter for having been able to stomach 50 Shades of Grey {worst thing I’ve ever read in my life} but not Casual Vacancy – returned the book.

Me. I returned a book.
This time, I made sure to do a little extra research before making my next purchase and, after coming across a description of The Queen of the Tearling and feeling some female pride for a female protagonist, I decided to buy it.

Well, you guys, I’ve been defeated again. I made it half way through the book before I got fed up with the author’s gimmicks. You sit there wondering…is this the future? Is this the past? What is going on here? Why does the author hate her own main character? Why is the author in love with her own supporting male character?

It is very weird and not very interesting and very slow moving. I’m sure it’ll make a much better movie (which Emma Watson is starring in, surprisingly. The author made it very clear that the main character is slightly fat and very plain and undesirable).

Anyway, I’ve exchanged this book for The Night Circus. I have big hopes, because if a third book lets me down I may die of sorrow.

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