There is no smell more beautiful than that of a fresh, crisp book, I can tell you now. It's like the look of dew on bright green blades of grass in the morning, it just makes you sit back and appreciate. Well, in retrospect they're very different, with the grass your appreciating nature, with the book you're appreciating what was nature before a big man in a tartan shirt, suspenders and a giant axe hadn gone to town on that tall oak. Either way, it's all good in the end. I love the start of the new book, just by the smell, and yet books are my worst enemy. There is no feeling I hate more than getting to the end of a really good book. I'm left with all these questions. What happened to the guy? Was his daughter alright? Did they go to their new home? What do you mean there's no sequel? Like hell there's no sequel! At this point it just gets violent, and I'm torn from the authors house at 3 in the morning by some very official looking men.
So, I'll admit, this did somewhat steer away from the lecture information, but hey, I'm just a direction-changing kinda guy. What really got me off on this diatribe is that I recently finished a good book. Being a fan of fantasy - it's pretty much the only genre of book you can get me to read - I just finished reading the book Orcs by Stan Nicholls. It's a book that'll change how you think about Orcs, it's a funny, violent tale that I recommend all should read. The delight on my face when I found out there was a sequel is unmatched and could only be recreated with some sort of happiness-generating-machine. But, incase you do wish to read it, it is very, very, very violent and gorey.
And so ends another blog. What did I achieve? Well, I'm not quite sure. Was it fun? Hey, it had it's moments. Adieu.