Last week, on two recommendations (bookshelves of doom and our current wall display of “staff favorites: adventure” at the library) I picked up Megan Whalen Turner’s The Thief. I’ll say this: even though they are very different in a lot of ways, it reminded me of nothing more than The Blue Sword. And when I was a kid, I loved The Blue Sword. It didn’t grip me right away, but by the time I got to the last quarter of the book, I had to stay up till oh, one-thirty or two in the morning to finish it. The landscape is fantastic, the retold myths are captivating. The characters are not characters – they are real. Aren’t they?
Why was I not surprised last night when the same thing happened with the sequel? I would give you a little link or something but the reviews, damn them, give away the plot. Granted, they mostly give away what happens in the first chapter, but still! We like our suspense, please. The Queen of Attolia reminded me even more of Robin McKinley, except more serious. More political intrigue. A little romance. Difficult decisions.
Now – for some reason my county library system only has TWO copies of The King of Attolia, the newest one. Thusly, I have turned to the library that I do not work for, which is swimming in copies, none of them at my tiny branch. I’m tempted to drive across town to pick one up. There are two things holding me back: I currently have 2 adult novels, 3 works of non-fiction, and 7 children’s novels checked out. What was the other thing? Oh yes – when I read The King, that’s it. Unless she writes another sequel. But things tend to come in threes. I can hope, sure, but for the time being it’s the end of the line. I might have to weep some bitter tears when I finish it.