:: book bound

I finished Daughters of Darkness a few days ago and stepped into Spellbinder territory. Needless to say, Daughters continued in much the same way and ended rather plainly. Even at the end of the book, I was still having trouble feeling any sort of empathy or sympathy for the characters. The connection just isn't there. At all.

Regardless, the book surprised me with one empathetic quote:

"I don't even know who I am anymore, she remembered with a sort of fatalistic gloom. I have the feeling I'm about to surprise myself." (p. 442)

I consistently fall victim to the cliche character who is trying to sort out who and what they are in the world. I suppose, on a large scale, that's all any of us is trying to do on a day to day basis, but it seems so contrived to spew this kind of garbage about how relateable it is. Of course it is. That fact is a no brainer.

Spellbinder has been relatively more enjoyable, only because I find I enjoy how much more mischievous the characters are. The happy-go-lucky, romantic, all for love characters were so boring and flat. Now, there seems to be a little more colour.

Either way, I'm taking a break once Spellbinder is done and diving into something else temporarily. I don't think I can handle nine books in one sitting. It's like eating too much chocolate cake. No, wait. That's a bad example. There can never be too much chocolate cake.

God. I wish I had some chocolate cake right now.