So I knew—I just knew—that Diana would love Among Others, the excellent novel by Jo Walton. I was so ready for it! I mean, I really liked the book, and I read through it really fast so she could get to it. And then…well, I wrote about it here, but basically: nope. To which, I am glad to announce, I responded with good grace and admirable calm. And I moved on—I did!
Then I read this, novel, also by Jo Walton:
I was convinced by my coworker's description, which was "It's like Trollope, but with dragons." I love Trollope. I am…interested, in dragons. I figured, why not?
It wasn't easy to get. Many bookstores were visited, and finally Alibris was resorted to. It turns out that the Trollope connection is entirely intentional and explicitly acknowledged in the introduction. Which for some reason made me wary, but I read on, and…I liked it. It was enjoyable and intriguing and even fun, but it didn't make me cry or anything. (Among Others did.) I didn't offer it to Diana, because, you know, I got enough grief with Among Others, and how that didn't wow her.
You know what happened, right?
Love. Love. LOVE! She had the greatest time with it. She read it right through at once, then over and over. When we happened by it on the coffee table last night (it travels around the house a lot), she looked at it fondly and said, "You know, that book just fits in wherever it is in our house, it just looks like it belongs there." And she looked at it with such affection, such fondness!
And so, in conclusion, I would just like to say that apparently I have no idea what I'm talking about. Thank you, and good night.
*However, it seems to end up fine. Generally.