I read a series this summer all about a gal who falls in love with a vamp. It's cute and campy and tongue-in-cheek - everything I like about a book. It's also preachy and vaguely annoying at times. I could tell who was going to die. The character drank. Or he was gay. Or he participated in an orgy. Those characters died. The heroine, a spunky bartender who can read minds, was fresh and fun...and everyone fell in love with her. Everyone loved the heroine. Her boyfriend the vamp. Her boss. Her vamp boyfriend's boss. The boy next door. The dog next door. Hell, everyone loved her. And I couldn't for the life of me figure out why. Sure she was cute and spunky (heroines are called kick-ass but it basically means spunky.) but she was nothing special. I don't even know if I'd want her as a friend, which is kind of my criteria for really liking a heroine: 'Would I want to hang out with this person?' If yes, then I really like the heroine. For the hero it's a bit different. It's more: 'If he asked me on a date would I laugh in his face or go out with him?'
Anyway, this gal gets a regular infusion of vamp blood from various vamps which boosts her stregnth and gives her a 'glow'. I guess it must be that glow. Anyhow, I read the series and liked it OK. Just OK, not loved it, or even hated it. I liked it. And that, I guess, is the kiss of death.
Saturday, August 27, 2005
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment