It’s no secret that I read at evolution’s pace.
And that my nightstand has stacked upon it Neuromancer, The Night Circus, Stardust, American Gods, and The October Country – I’m like the Derek Jeter of books, I’m a novelizer.
Well, add another emotionally empty, sexually fueled tryst to the stack - Hunger Games is on her way up.
I am not one to read Young Adult Fiction – mainly due to its plight of poor writing and one-size-fits-all plots – but a friend of mine has lent me Hunger Games on the promise that I finish the first book.
The trade-off is that I get to choose a book for my friend to read; I haven’t decided if I’m going to torture her or provide a piece of fantastic literature.
I will provide a non-bias, open mind to the novel (I have seen the movie). If it turns out to be well-written and exciting piece of prose, then I will let it be known here with an in-depth opinion.
I hesitate to call it a review because I’m not a critic and can only apply my personal feelings.
I have been “forewarned” that Collins’ writing style is simple and, at times, sloppy, which is the bane of my existence.
But there’s only one way to find out.
When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold.