Deadhouse Gates

...Because some book titles are just too cool to believe.

Life is cruel, they say. That's why George R.R. Martin, while writing Game of Thrones, maimed an 8-year-old within the first few chapters.

Of course I hated it when that happened, because I like life to be sunny and happy and joyful and all that jazz. Not that it is, ever. But it's nice to pretend--and even believe--that it is. And that is the kind of feeling I get from the Malazan Book of the Fallen. There's a lot of sadness and bitterness in it, and a lot of death. But at the end, I kind of feel like the people in the story changed lives, their own or those of others, in some way. Mostly for the better. And, possibly, that's all one could ever want in life.

Basically I liked Coltaine. I really liked him. He had a useful way of dealing with people--ignore their whining and then enforce martial law to make sure they toe the line. Yup, something special, all right. Highlight for spoilers: And he's dead, nothing can change that, really. But his sacrifice wasn't in vain, and that's what matters in the end. 

End spoiler. Something I learnt from TV tropes and idioms, a rather useful if slightly flame-y site.

Go on: Linky, linky

Hum. Anyway, Coltaine. Here's the most romanticised version of him I've seen so far:

.

.

And here is a book cover with him on it:

Yeah. Sliight difference. As a matter of fact, that cover is more art than cover, almost. It depicts the feeling so well, you feel like crying when you see it. (*sniff* No, that is not a tear there in my eye.) Beautiful, wonderful special edition. Now, why can't more people gift me stuff like this?? People in my life, take heed.

Signing off, and wondering why life, while alright in the theoretical, is such a pain to actually live.

Katze.

P.S. Is a bit mortified, because just realised have been pronouncing it wrong myself, and have recently corrected someone else's(correct) pronunciation. Sorry. >.<

Bibliophilia

Hi,

It's been so long since I last wrote a blog post that I've almost forgotten how.

This one is, as ever, for myself.

I've been reading like a maniac, and I've come to several conclusions:

1. I don't like Raymond E. Feist, though his name is rather ...inspiring. Just the right amount of mysteriousness with the 'E' and a hint of magic with the last name. But I was un-awed by his first book, Magician, in spite of which I ended up reading the whole thing(Thank you, Mr. Feist, for giving me Arutha conDoin, though. He was the first--and possibly only--character I really, really loved in Magician.) Silverthorn, his second offering, hurt my brain, and not in the o-m-g-this-is-fantastic kind of way. I left it halfway. I-I!  had to leave a book halfway. Imagine my pain.(Though I'm yet to complete A Tale of Two Cities, I'm afraid.)

2. I am still in love with Terry Pratchett, and the girl who is Aching all over. ;) I recently came across this amazing book:

And, once again, I am in love. It's a fantastic book, going far beyond the usual funny, witty fare, with loveable characters and strange, yet oddly familiar devices and settings. No, this one has got an amazing sort-of whodunit and whathehellisgoingon vibe that really just kills it, you know, no disrespect to the surfer dudes or whoever that I've stolen that phrase from. I can't wait to read the sequel, Making Money.

-No really. Let me leave this blog post to go read it right this instant.-

3. I also am awed and amazed by the master storyteller who is Neil Gaiman. Respect. Nothing else can be said. I read Coraline recently, and I wonder how something about a child's seemingly perfectly harmless imaginary adventures could be made to be so creepy. But I think that might be it: what is harmless for a child, in its dreams, can inspire much more creeping-up-your-spine terror than anything an adult can ever come up with. Coraline is one of the few books whose movie I've seen before I read the book, but I loved the movie(Henry Selick classic that it is :D) and so I was enthusiastic about picking up the book.

This is the scariest thing. Ever:

And now I really think I should finish up this post, since I have places to be and things to do, and one absent team member, and one pissed-off one. Cheerio!

Senti and Interview With A Fire Demon

So I was looking over my old posts, and I had a lump in my throat when I realised that all the effort I'd gone to, all the seriously good writing that I had put into my blog posts had gone completely and utterly to waste. Because, honestly, no one cares.