With the exception of my recent look at Margaret Atwood’s Hag-Seed, I don’t write many book reviews. That is for a fairly simple reason. Most books that I read remind me of a Thai restaurant near my old house. That may sound odd, but stick with me. The food at that restaurant is fine. Perfectly mediocre. Appropriate amounts of peanut sauce. Tofu in all the right places. Everything as expected. Which all adds up to me never wanting to eat there.
I want my restaurants to be more than perfectly mediocre. I want my books to be more too.
I have spent the entirety of my professional career working at libraries and publishing houses, which means that I have read a ridiculous number of books. Though each book has its own spark, its own flavor, many novels sound the same. I don’t hate all tropes – heck, I play Story…
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