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mishadayI mean, I knew. You can't avoid the spoilers, even as oblique as they have been. A bare summary, a hint that it of course comes full circle... and I knew what would happen.
Hell, it's what's kept me from finishing the last two Harry Potter books. I heard the spoilers, I knew what happened, and I read the Epilogue. Rowling's prose isn't deathless enough to make me go back.
I know I'll go back for this, though. It's Bujold.
And it's funny, because I'd just finished a little supernatural Victorian romp and Cryoburn was next on my stack (it was that or Pratchett: do you know how *hard* a decision that is? So I read five pages, typical Miles, sneaked to the end, went 'oh! drabbles!' and...
I read them. And on the second to last sentence, promptly burst into tears. Oh, Gregor!
It's something that fen will get better than anyone - that attachment to a character and all their history, so that one sentence is just a punch in the gut because it draws on long *years* of familiarity and affection.
Everyonce in a while, when I'm in the mood for a good, cathartic cry, I read Where the Red Fern Grows. It's been a favorite of mine since my dog and pony phase in middle school, and I think it's just been replaced.
Hell, it's what's kept me from finishing the last two Harry Potter books. I heard the spoilers, I knew what happened, and I read the Epilogue. Rowling's prose isn't deathless enough to make me go back.
I know I'll go back for this, though. It's Bujold.
And it's funny, because I'd just finished a little supernatural Victorian romp and Cryoburn was next on my stack (it was that or Pratchett: do you know how *hard* a decision that is? So I read five pages, typical Miles, sneaked to the end, went 'oh! drabbles!' and...
I read them. And on the second to last sentence, promptly burst into tears. Oh, Gregor!
It's something that fen will get better than anyone - that attachment to a character and all their history, so that one sentence is just a punch in the gut because it draws on long *years* of familiarity and affection.
Everyonce in a while, when I'm in the mood for a good, cathartic cry, I read Where the Red Fern Grows. It's been a favorite of mine since my dog and pony phase in middle school, and I think it's just been replaced.
