My world, or whatever you want to call the cave I share with my sister during these months, has been completely consumed by words. Reading blogs, books, and the english subtitles to La Belle Personne pirated on my chromebook at two in the morning(which, by the way, is splendid movie you should watch). I have been making great progress on my book-novel-whateveritendsupbeing, as well as a short story I’m writing with my little cousin. My mother also graciously purchased four more books for me, on top of the two that came last week to help keep me entertained. What books did I get? why, you should’ve asked sooner. From last week, she ordered The Conference of the Birds, which is the fifth novel of Miss Peregrine’s Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs. These books bring me great nostalgia from the wee times of fourth grade when the first book came out. It’s funky how long ago that was, and how the same books, are being written, adding more and more to the story even when I’ve moved on. It’s especially weird to think about how all of these books happen within a span of a month or so, yet, years pass between reading them. And I’m not one of those weird fucks that re-reads a series just to “refresh their memory” of the story before they read the next novel, oh no,if the story didn’t stick with me, I clearly wasn’t invested enough to care about what happened next, and chances are, never bought the next book. So. With that being said, I enjoy this series.
The second book is Inspection, a novel by Josh Malerman. Malerman also wrote Bird Box. I never read Bird Box, nor watched the movie, due to my wanting to be different and “not consuming the same media as everyone else and having the same thoughts and theories as everyone else” As I remember myself saying to a friend one time. Ignorant. Stupid. That’s 2018 me. Anyways, as I was saying, my limited knowledge of Bird Box furthered my interest in Inspection. My brother read this before me in a single afternoon and said it was wonderful, Here I am, three days in and can’t get past page 147. When I tell you it’s slow moving, I cannot stress. After expressing my concern to my brother that he might have very bad taste in books, and therefore I may never be able to trust his opinion again, he told me promising information that there was gore at the end. I live for gore. Not sure what that says about me, but I love it. So, I plow on…slowly. Trying to get to the end, or at least to the gore.
As for the four books that came in the mail this week, I won’t tell you. Because I don’t want to. And I’ll probably write about the more later. See ya.