Where Have I Been... and Am I coming Back?

Hello hello hello!!

How are everyone? For the past few months I've been pretty inactive, mostly active in the deal area of this blog, but I wanted to give you an update in case you were worried about my status.

My biggest passion in life has always, always, been writing stories. It has been my dream and life goal since I was seven years old. I used to write every day, all day, until I was about eighteen, when I went to collage for script writing.

There, ironically enough, I stopped writing. There was something so depressing and life sucking in that program that made me completely lose my muse. For five years. Those five years were, instead, filled with reading many different books.

Earlier this year, I found my groove again. I started writing again. But something had to give. And that something had to be.... reading. And this is, ultimately, a review blog. So, unfortunately, this blog was hurt the most by this.

That being said, I am starting to find more balance, and in order to have a more balanced diet, I intend to read and review four books per month (at least), and write four non review posts of any kind.

Now, what else have I been doing? 

1. Exercising! Unbelievably enough, I have started a regime of walks and jogs in order to live a healthier life & lose some of the weight I've gained since starting my job. It's a lot of weight lol

2. Watching drama. I kind of got sucked into that world while focusing on my writing. It's easier to just invest 45 minutes to an hour in an episode one in a while than a book. I tend to lose myself while I'm reading.

3. Gif-ing! I don't know how it happened, but I started gifing the shows I'm watching. It's becoming a real sickness!!

What about you guys? What have you been doing this past few months? Read anything good you can recommend for my 4 books a month?

Let's Be Honest... Who Do You Write For?

This is a post a long time in the making. Which makes sense considering I haven't written a proper, pure discussion post in a long while now, as I've been slumping pretty hard blog-wise. But every time I thought to myself "what post should I write next?" THIS is what came immediately to mind;

Who do I write for?

This blog is not very popular. In a lot of ways, perhaps in all the ways that matter as an online blog, it's not a success. I'm hesitant to say it is a "failure", but that is perhaps the most accurate description. No doubt a huge part of that is my fault, as I post irregularly at best and not at all at worst.

The facts remain that my average comment number on any given post is a huge zero and I only have about one reader who comments regularly (hey Stephanie! *waves*). It's nothing like my very first blog in 2012, where I got between three and five comments a post. I thought that was lame back there and was disappointed by it. I find that ironically hilarious.

That old blog closed because of the same thing that is happening now; irregular posting schedule, low interactive-ness, etc etc. But whereas I had so many thoughts of closing down the blog back then, of moving on, I do not have those same thoughts now.

For all the disappointment of getting no reads, and the huge slump of not reviewing many of the books I read... I've never thought about stopping reviewing books on this blog. This made me wonder... who, exactly, do I write for? What has changed since 2014?

Any reviewer who tells you they are not writing for others to read is lying. If we weren't writing for you to read it, we would do so on a personal journal that no one ever has to see. If I didn't want you to read this very post, I wouldn't have put it online where it's available to y'all.

We all wish and hope others will read and enjoy what we're putting out there. It's part of the magic of reviewing and this whole community in general. Where fandoms have fanart and fanfiction, the Bookish Fandom has reviews and discussion posts and tags.

And yet, I find myself replying to the aforementioned question with...

I am writing for myself.

Now, don't be thinking it's an altruistic desire... because it's not that at all. If anything, this is as selfish as I can possibly be. I am putting this content out there for the chance someone could enjoy it and maybe even validate me and my opinion a little bit (hey, I'm just a human), but the content itself is written for me.

Because it gives me something incredible. It gives me a shortened re-reading experience... without ever cracking the book open.

Do you have any idea how many times in the past I have encountered a book, or a movie, or an anime, or a show, that I have read/watched... and yet I can't remember anything about it? There is nothing more frustrating to me than looking at a cover or a title and drawing blanks despite knowing without a shadow of a doubt that I have spent time in this world.

It bothers me on such a personal, deep level.

But you know what happens when I have written a review on whatever it was? the words on the page trigger a slew of memories. I am suddenly able to put myself where I was when I read, what I read, what I thought, where before there was nothing. I am able to relive the emotions and have a shortened re-experience with the novel.

Be it good or bad, I am able to remember.

I love this. I love doing this and being able to recall what a book made me think and feel because of the words I put down on it in a review.

So I'm not going to stop this blog, even if I write barely five posts a month, on a good month. Because at the end of the day, while it's online so other people could read and enjoy it when I can just have a notebook for all those thoughts (although, let's be honest, at this point this blog is dead enough to be considered a personal notebook), I still write for myself. For that ability to re-read the novel through my review. And if I could maybe make some else feel emotions through this, all the better :)

Side note: if you're looking for more consistent content from me, friend or follow me on GR. There are a lot of thoughts that don't appear on this blog simply because I don't put unedited reviews on here. On GR, though, I puke all my thoughts straight after finishing a novel and then later edit them for the blog. So it's a lot more consistent, if also a lot messier.

When You Just Have to Break Up... With a Genre

In the last five years or so, easing up only last year, there has been an affluence of dystopians in the market. Divergent, Under the Never Sky, Hunger Games, etc, all of them were at their peek and flourishing. Everywhere you looked, the YA shelves were filled with highly recommended dystopian novels. The hype was off the roof, and naturally I bought some of those novels. And then, after reading maybe five of them, I stopped.

Most of my currently unread hard copy novels are in fact dystopians. Divergent, Under the Never Sky, Defiance, Partials, Red Hill, Delirium, Breathe, World After... the list goes on. All should be great books, and yet something stops me from actually picking them up. They're left unread and untouched, passed over in favor of romantic tales and fantastical worlds, some of which came long after them into my possession.

Then, after reading Wither back in 2013--and when I say "read" I mean force myself to pick up a dystopian novel, any dystopian novel, because I haven't read one in weeks and they're pilling goddammit!--I suddenly realized why. For the most part, I... simply don't like reading dystopians. 

I don't believe in forcing one's self to read a genre just because it's popular and everyone loves it, when you're not really enjoying the experience of reading it. 

I'd like to clarify that I have read great dystopians and in all honesty most of the books I've read in the genre were fantastic. I just didn't enjoy reading them. Out of the books I've read, only two or three are five stars, and none of them made it to my favorites shelves (aside for the Knife of Never Letting Go). I'm not going to read any of them a second time. I'm not going to force my cousin, Yuval, to read any (the sure sign that I really love a novel) - I have, in fact, never done so with a dystopian. Ever.

The reason for this aversion? DYSTOPIANS ARE DEPRESSING.

I am a person prone to depressions. I combat them on a daily life level, some days literally forcing myself to get out of bed and face the world. I had three instances in my life that I couldn't do that, and spent the majority of three or two weeks in bed, doing absolutely nothing. It was very hard to pick myself up again after that.

And I am not considered a bad case of this disease (have never went to diagnose it, either, because that would make it far too real, and when I'm okay enough to care about diagnosis I'm also lucid enough to feel completely ashamed of that weakness, but that's a separate issue).

Dystopians are so hard for me to read. The very depressing, disturbing and cruel realities these people live in make me physically feel heavier. I feel myself drowning under the weight of realities that don't even exist (yet).

In my mind, they're associated with depression, worse-case scenarios and impossible choices. With no way out, death and loss. To put simply - they scare me. They scare me because I read to feel better, to shake off the things that bother me via a temporary foray into someone else's life, someone who gets their HEA, and dystopians do the opposite for me. They make me feel unbalanced, paranoid and moody. 

I am afraid that if I read them, it will be so much harder to get up in the morning.

So my relationship with dystopians is tumultuous to say the least. I read maybe two dystopian novels in a year, but where three years ago I was angry at myself for this, I am now okay with this reality. I am never going to have an easy time with the depressing subjects, and that's okay. Everyone have things they find harder to handle.

tbh, at this point I feel like dystopians are that ex you're still kind of friendly with and see twice a year at friends' birthdays.

What about you? Are dystopians your favorite genre, or like me you kind of elegantly avoid them and pretend you don't see the row of unread dystopians on your shelves?

How to Make the Most of An Unplanned Hiatus

Hello, it's me... I was wondering if after all these months you'd like to meet to go over everything....

For the past couple of months I've been pretty inactive on the blog front, doing only the occasional bargain post as, while I wasn't blogging, I was still reading. In fact, the only thing I wasn't doing for the past couple of months is blog. Aside for that, I've been surprisingly... prolific. 

As everyone who loves blogging knows, sometimes... you just don't feel like doing it. At all. You sit in front of the computer, and you think to yourself "ahhh, I really need to write a post today. I'm falling behind". And then you click on a new tab and drown yourself in another 4 hours of watching anime instead. Because, why not?

I doesn't start because of some big event. There doesn't need to be some internet troll to take the blogging fun out of things and push you into a place where you don't love blogging anymore. It's like a reading slump, or a watching slump, it something that happens.

Well, you know what? I believe in taking that slump all the way. If I already don't feel like blogging, no point in worrying and trying to force the mojo to come back. It will do so on it's own, in it's own time. In the meantime, why not spend that time you're not blogging doing other things you love? 

You love reading? Then read. Don't think about reviewing those books, don't let yourself feel guilty. Just read. That's how you find yourself two months later with 16 books read and having one of the most prolific reading month of the last year ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

You love watching anime? Then go crazy and watch all the anime your free time allows. An episode is normally around 20 minutes long, so you can jam in 3 episodes in an hour, and four hours later you have finished a 12 episode season! Banazi! And if you feel like tackling longer anime, there are some great ones out there too. Personally, in this hiatus I focused on short anime and I've had the time of my life with 13 anime that were a ton of fun to watch, and felt like they took zero time out of me! \(^_^)/

You love foreign drama? Then find one that doesn't make you crazy with just how dramatic those dramas can be and immerse yourself in 16 hours of it because dear god their episodes are soooooooo long it feels like you're watching three seasons instead of one series but they can also be soooooo good. o(^o^)o 

You like knitting? knit. You like drawing? draw! Rid yourself of the ridiculous sense of guilt and do what you love until you feel like you can return to the love of blogging! 

I'm not sure I'm there yet, but I have reached a point where I want to talk to you guys about the things and shows that occupied my time in the last two months, so this is what I'll do. That's the plan. The whole plan. Does it suck? Maybe. But am I having fun with it? Heck yes! 

The Journey of a Coward | Finding Courage in your Opinions

I started blogging in 2012. I was shy of eighteen, and a coward.

Do you know the term coming out of your shell? At eighteen, I wasn't anywhere near my shell. I was burrowed deep, deep inside. I had just started opening my eyes, just started letting people in, just started smiling to people I didn't know and taking life a little easier.

But the shell was still in place, and I was afraid.

Blogging was something that started naturally. I found Goodreads, discovered a whole digital world of people who love reading and could talk books with me, and jumped right into it. I felt like a Digidestined receiving her digivice and transporting into another world. The real world I was meant to be in all along.

I was hungry and desperate for conversation on things I loved. To bring my thoughts--those thoughts that so often stayed in my head only because I was frightened of voicing them, frightened of saying the wrong thing, frightened to offend or annihilate--out there. To people who didn't know me, but would speak to me.

And still, I was afraid.

Well, that's not quite true. At first, I had no fear in this new fantastic world. I had only excitement. Finally, I could use my voice -- without ever opening my mouth, without potentially showing those around me how messed up, or geeky, or nerdy I was. Because in the internet you both exist and don't, you're both there and simultaneously nowhere at all. It was safe. Or so I thought.

Then I started seeing the drama. Started seeing how people attacked and trolled, how people were still close-minded and obscene about things that differed from them. How there was still derision and hate and anger - stronger than in real life, maybe, where you could watch your actions unfold and affect.

Because online, you're both there and nowhere... and your victims are just pieces of digital data online. You're Tom to their Jerry. Even if you throw a bomb at them, they're going to bounce right off. No harm done. Only these "fictional people" do exist. You may walk by them on the street and never know it, but they have a corporeal body and they bleed and they hurt. And so, my fear returned.

Every time I read a popular novel, I was filled with anxiety. Because what if I didn't like it? what if those predators turned their claws and fangs on me? How would I deal? At eighteen, I couldn't deal. This was a truth I knew about myself, but had no yet accepted. A truth I would never come to accept, which was the only reason I could make myself grow out of it. But I'm running ahead of the story.

Back to eighteen; so at eighteen, I made unconscious decisions to... cushion my ratings. I say unconscious because I was not aware of doing it. I gave books three and three and a half stars ratings that now, looking back, were two, two and a half star reads for me. In my mind, the three/three and a half ratings were the lesser evil. A safe balance between what I really thought... and what was dangerous territory. 

Sure, the book wasn't that great, and I felt nothing for the characters, and the romance felt flat, and the world building sucked but... hey, I didn't hate it, right? This is a phrase that kept popping often in my reviews... I didn't hate the book. Like that's some glowing endorsement. 

My words were still pretty harsh, and the books I truly hated received no such treatment, but most of the books received the "average" rating. A part of me figured, I think, that if the rating wasn't one/two stars, then the trolls won't come and the lions won't attack, because they won't have the energy to actually read the review and see I spoke of exactly one positive in the whole novel.

They keep their energies for the really bad ratings.

But again, I wasn't aware of doing that. Now, stronger and more firm (and definitely unapologetic) about my opinions, I can see that. I can almost map the way this all worked out in my brain, can almost feel the nudging of my subconscious danger, danger, move with caution. 

So, at eighteen, I was a coward. At nineteen, I was a creature of habit. I was a year into collage, found a source of strength in the friends I made there, was faced with some shitty life situations and went past them. I felt more comfortable in me, but that fearful habit to protect myself remained. I was still careful.

At twenty, I started to have a strong grasp on who I am. I stopped shying away from my opinions in public. I found my voice and the strength to defend what I believed in. I was no longer putrefied of speaking in public; I knew the pounding in my heart is going to be difficult, but I also knew it won't stop me. 

I became comfortable in who I am. I forgot to say "sorry" all the time, forgot to hesitate in a conversation. I was still shy, I would still agonies for days before making the first step in anything, but once I took that step I was all in.

I was infinitely stronger, and infinitely more myself. 

And so I started becoming displeased with my blog, with my online self, which continued to project a lesser self instead of who I am. Continued to show me a coward instead of a warrior.

At twenty one, I stopped apologizing. I started being firm and strict in my opinions. This trickled into my blog life, and brought on a wave of "oldies". I wanted my reviews to reflect who I am, and by doing so I realized the distressing truth of how afraid I was when I was younger.

Eighteen is not young. I was a late bloomer, for sure. It was just four short years ago, but if feels like a lifetime away.

I started a new blog, a blog that was my place to be and to exist and think exactly what I want to think and if someone doesn't like that, click away. I started to become unafraid of hate because, dude, I don't understand hate myself. I would never hate your for your opinions and beliefs if they vary from mine. 

I might not understand them, I might even think you're a complete moron--but I would keep those to myself, and I would definitely never comment and tell you it to your face. I would never be disrespectful towards you, and no, I won't hate you. My hatred is few and limited, and I keep it for people who have seriously wronged me in RL. And even then, it tends to dissipate the farther away I am from it.

And if you want to hate my opinions, hate my thoughts, hate the fact I have either of which and it's not exactly the way you look at life... well, I'm sorry to tell you, this doesn't mean there is anything wrong with me. If anything, it says something about you.

It took four years of blogging to get me to this point. It took the end of my last year of high-school where I met the first friend that forced me closer to that shell, two years of collage where I meet six fantastic people who balanced my trio and gave us strength, it took a year a half in the army and dealing with the unfairness of a system in real life as an adult that has to count on herself.

I FIND COURAGE IN MY OPINIONS. 
I AN NOT ASHAMED OF THEM.
I AM NOT AFRAID OF YOUR HATE.

And neither should you.

But the thing is; don't try to rush things. Don't beat yourself up if you're not there. You're growing into yourself, whether you're sixteen or sixty it doesn't matter. Don't try to force yourself to reach this place. I am happy with where I am today, but I am fully aware that in four years, I may be in a completely different place.

The way you feel about yourself is not something you can control.  I can honestly tell you that at eighteen, I hated the person I was. I can still remember and reprimand myself on conversations I had four years ago, when I should have said something but didn't. I was miserable with my weak self.

You can always strive to be better, to face things that scare you, to try to find your footing. But you can never force yourself to love yourself. Instead, you have to let yourself grow, you have to try to become a self you can love.

And finally, if you're read this far... I love you. I appreciate your opinions. I am never going to hold them against you; the farthest away you can take me is to say "I disagree, but it's okay if you think otherwise".

And to me, y'all are beautiful.

So if you need someone to talk to, I'm here.

My (Extra)ordinary Way to Watch TV

I don't think I watch TV (or more accurately, TV shows) quite the same way other people do, if I were honest. 

It starts off one of two ways: I either find a show through tumblr by seeing dozens of gif sets or what not, finding a couple that looks beyond adorable to ship, and then jumping in to join the party. Or, I find a show through sidereel or my mother's recommendation and THEN move to tumblr.

As you can see, tumblr is pretty important in my watching method either way. I'm emphasizing this because it's going to be extra important in just a sec. 

After I've decided on a show to watch, I usually watch around the first eight episodes in one go... and maybe the whole season. I Just binge right through them. Worth noting:

• If a show has eight episodes and I find myself stopping in episode three or four, then I probably won't continue with it because it means the show is not for me. Usually, I know why I'm stopping but sometimes it just doesn't click.
• If a show is ongoing and doesn't have that many, even if I'm head over heels in love with the episodes I've watched, chances are I'll drop it until there's at least a full season before I continue watching because I tend to forget shows.

The Structure of a Fantasy Trilogy | A Different Kind of "Second Book Syndrome"

So, lately I've been thinking a lot. Mostly on why it's so hard for me to finish trilogies, especially fantasy ones. I used to think I was super good about finishing things, but then I realized...

No, seriously. The amount of series I started, loved, and then just left it there is humongous. And it's not because I don't want to read what happens next. So... why does it happen? Well, because I like to psych things out, I think I realized at least a partial reason for it.

I am super afraid of reading second books... because of the structure of a trilogy. 

What do I mean? A fantasy trilogy (when done correctly, anyways, and doesn't just waste the middle book as filler because apparently creating just douolgies is sacrilege or something) has a very definite and frightening structure, that makes me super duper uoper scared to read the second book:

This is the good book. In here, we establish our characters, their motivations, and the general problem they're dealing with. This book would normally end on a hopeful, light note, promising better for our heroes in the future (yeah, right). A great victory, or even just a small one, but enough to make everyone momentarily happy. As well as you, the reader.

This book would typically have more wins than loses throughout, as well.

This is the worst book, as far as I'm concerned. The book that makes me bite my nails and pray to the lord. Because this book normally works at unraveling everything good we've managed to build in book one. And just in case that didn't get you depressed enough, it typically ends on a huge loss. An important fight lost, a kingdom taken, a loved one stolen/killed, our heroes having to --for the moment-- abandon the things they love... this sort of thing. 

It ends bleak and dark and gives you the understanding of what our heroes are going to have to come back from in the final book. The farther you fall, the more glorious the rise or something like this?

This book usually has either a pretty balanced tally of win/lose or more wins than losses, with the losses upping the farther into the plot you go, just to put an extra kick on that already gut wrenching final loss.

THIS is the book I hate. I don't like finishing a book feeling like everything is hopeless and having my main characters despair, even when they're still planing on fighting and I know they'll win at the end. Probably has to do with that end being SO FAR AWAY.

Book three deals with the aftermath of The Loss in book two. Everything is out of balance and the stake constantly rise as our heroes wrestle wins (and get handed losses and setbacks) while they fight for the future of the kingdom/world/family/etc.

Typically, this book will have more loses than wins, so that final battle will feel extra dangerous and momentous.

This book is more bearable to me, 'cause I know at the end of the day they have to win, even if with severe losses. So, like, there is not a whole other book to go through to deal with all these little losses. It will be resolved! This is the whole difference, for me, I guess?

But to get to this book... I need to go through the book that doesn't have that. Gulp.

Have you ever noticed this structure? Are you afraid of going into that second book as well?

(BTW, non-trilogies follow this structure less strictly, but they also tend to have the book before the finale end horribly. However, I find that it's less difficult for me to deal because it spaced more evenly).

Guys - It's Alright Not to Read ALL The Time

You may have noticed the blog has been quite sparse for the last month. This is due to a few reasons, the most important of which is that I simply have no time.

I have been absolutely swamped.

I'm practically a social butterfly right now, which is so weird to me 'cause I'm an introvert through and through and I am not used to going out of the house for non-work related things for more than once-twice a month, definitely not one-two times a week. I love my friends, and I love hanging with them (we're pretty low-key), but that much social interaction is exhausting for me. I feel drained from the lack of me-time.

Still, this is the best kind of exhaustion.

The bad type is the one I get from work, especially as I am acting as the office supervisor right now because ours is on a trip to India (I am so jealous) and I am basically holding everything together single handed. There is a major rant I could be having on the subject, but I'd rather not open it on the internet. Where, you know, anyone could see it.

I'm getting sidetracked.

Between all that, I find that I barely read or focus on the blog - social media wise or content wise, though, this mostly applies on these extra posts that I love to make that are not reviews. Reviews are, for a lack of better word, easy for me. The discussions are the part I enjoy making the most, and that's the part I have the least time for.

And more than anything I barely read. from three books a week, every week, I moved to one book on a good week. Instead, I cruise aimlessly on YouTube videos and watch shows and generally occupy my time with things that take less brain power than reading. Two years ago, even last year, this would've have filled me with guilt. I would've felt like a total failure, and would beat myself up over not reading.

This year, not so much. I think it has something to do with opening a blog that is about every form of story-telling which allows me this freedom, because I know I can still create a constant flow of content even in the drier reading months, but more than anything - I don't think it's bad that I've slowed down.

It's okay to enjoy watching shows more than reading sometimes.

It's okay to feel like you're not "up to" reading.

It's okay to take some time off, it's even okay to take this slower pace and keep it. 

Because you know what? As long as you're having fun with whatever it is your doing - watching a show, reading a manga, cruising tumblr, listening to maddeningly addictive musical numbers, what ever it may be, AS LONG AS YOU'RE HAVING FUN, IT'S OKAY. It's not wrong.

So I've decided to free myself from this senseless sense of "failure" and let myself be. I am not going to focus on numbers and goals anymore.

I AM GOING TO FOCUS ON ENJOYING MYSELF. 

On Unsubscribing and Why It's Difficult

This post is just some random thoughts that I had to write down. A few days ago, I unsubscribed from a few of the blogs on my mailing list. This is something I rarely do because I always feel so bad for those sites. I know how hard it is to make a wide audience base for yourself and how discouraging it can be to lose followers.

But at the same time... I wasn't a real follower to these blogs.

These are the blogs I almost certain I subscribed to because of some giveaway or another. I don't read their posts because their writing style doesn't engage me and they mostly feature books that are of not interest to me.

(it might be notable that I am an engaging subscriber to some blogs that are like this but have such an addictive writing style they might even get me to read those books I never planned to)

Can I count as a follower if I only check out the giveaway posts and most of the time I do nothing with them as well? If the blog covers novels that don't attract me? If every posts that comes into my inbox gets moved to trash without barely a glance, with only one in a million titles actually catching my interest???

There, I said it.

So I did some thinking with myself. I hate un-following. But in this case, isn't my "following"... worse? Aren't I somehow a cheat and a liar and I actually off-set their stats because I'm a ghost follower that doesn't really exist, like those bots and what not?

I AM NOT A REAL FOLLOWER. 

What do their stats need me for? What do I give them that requires I stay on board? Whose feelings am I going to hurt if for all intents and purposes I never "existed"in these bloggers lives to begin with?

These were the things that finally decided it for me. Maybe they are just excuses to make myself feel better about unsubscribing, and maybe if doesn't even matter if they are. I am going to do some real cleaning to the blogs I'm subscribed to. I am going to try and only subscribe to blogs I want to read the content of, and all those giveaways be dammed.

WHAT ABOUT YOU? DO YOU FIND IT HARD TO UNFOLLOW? DO YOU THINK A "SILENT FOLLOWER" IS WORTH SOMETHING? 

#StoryTime: Transformation to DNFer

This is a story of a young girl, and how she came to acquire and embrace the title of "DNFer".

Once upon a time, in a little country, there was an even little-er girl. The name of the girl is insignificant, for she was just a girl and at the same time many girls, and they all had different names and all lived in different places, but they were one and the same nonetheless.

The girl was considered somewhat of a bookworm among her peers, and she was immensely proud of her title. She considered herself a champion of stories and worlds. She was determined that no story, nor series will ever best her.

She will reign supreme against all that she read, no matter how long the battle, how tenacious the fighters, how tedious her opponents, or how boring the war was.

She. Will. Succeed.

And she did, for many years, not knowing that the world--and all it had to offer--was much wider than her little country and its meager selection. That beyond the horizon waited many places for her to open the covers.

She was sixteen, going on seventeen, when her eyes opened. The Imperious Court of Goodreads made itself known to her, and offered its services. Suddenly, the gates have opened, and traffic and travel between the countries were allowed.

On one of those travels, she stumbled upon the lands of Kindle and The Book Depository, where books and stories poured like rain, and she tried to take them all, until she could not fit them in any longer. Until she had to build new shelves and shackle herself with the curse of the horrifying Book Buying Ban.

She discovered many new worlds. She fought many new wars.

And some of them were... hard. Harder than anything she's ever experienced before. Harder still for different worlds were calling her name, urging her to come to them. Soon, she'd chant in her head. Hoping she will reach the end of the war already and be free to pursue other places.

Until one day... she couldn't ignore the call. She couldn't ignore the urging voice. She only paused the fight, she told herself. She would take a break, refuel herself, take over some other worlds, rejuvenate herself, and come back to finish this one. It wasn't going anywhere.

And it didn't go anywhere. Anywhere at all. The fight ended without a conclusion, and while she was wrecked with guilt over that unfinished battle, she did not regret the worlds she discovered in it's stead. She was quite... relieved, actually, to be rid of that burden.

And indeed, who wants to control a land that bores them? That angers them? That frustrates them? It was much better to be queen over worlds she liked, over people she respected and was awed by.

But she did not realize it then. She was still forging through unwanted battles, through landscapes she'd rather not see. Until a rather tough stretch of road began, with her conquering places she never wanted to set foot in again.

She was exhausting resources and man power for countries that meant nothing to her. And for what? She was sure someone else would love to be the Queen of Shadowhunters, it just wasn't her. And someone else could have the man-tiger, she just wasn't that into him. And those weird pixies would probably be better appreciated by another girl.

And there were so many worlds out there, so much to see and so many people to meet, that she realized there was no meaning in fighting for things she didn't really want. And really, why force on those worlds her reign, anyways?

The burden was lifted off her shoulders. An easy smile stretched on her face. And from that moment on, she would occasionally retreat and surrender, she would admit defeat. And she wasn't a lesser person, a leaser leader, for it.

She discovered many wonderful worlds. She left behind many that weren't the right fit for her. She accepted the mental of a DNFer, knowing it wasn't for everyone, and vowed to use it wisely for lost causes only.

And she was a happier bookworm for it.

THE END

DID YOU LIKE THIS QUIRKY LITTLE WAY OF TELLING A BOOKISH STORY? LET ME KNOW IF YOU'D LIKE FOR ME TO DO MORE LIKE THIS :)

Book Review: The Book Thief Markus Zusak (Favorites Extravaganza: Day #6)

2015 Favorites Extravaganza: Day #6 

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak
N/A
First Published: 2005
Paperback
YA, Historical Fantasy
Rating:

HERE IS A SMALL FACT - YOU ARE GOING TO DIE

1939. Nazi Germany. The country is holding its breath. Death has never been busier.
Liesel, a nine-year-old girl, is living with a foster family on Himmel Street. Her parents have been taken away to a concentration camp. Liesel steals books. This is her story and the story of the inhabitants of her street when the bombs begin to fall.
SOME IMPORTANT INFORMATION - THIS NOVEL IS NARRATED BY DEATH
It's a small story, about:
a girl
an accordionist
some fanatical Germans
a Jewish fist fighter
and quite a lot of thievery.
ANOTHER THING YOU SHOULD KNOW - DEATH WILL VISIT THE BOOK THIEF THREE TIMES

The Book Thief has been reviewed many times over. I bet everything that could be said about it, already has been. But... as a Jew, reading this book, I feel obligated to add in my two cents. So bear with me. This is going to be a very personal review. In fact, it's going to speak largely about things surrounding the book instead of the book itself.

Originally, I never intended to read the Book Thief. 

As a general rule, I don't read Holocaust based novels. In Israel, we study the Holocaust extensively (in relations to Jews mostly, for obvious reasons) from the first grade to the twelfth. We annually mention and mourn the 6 million lost on a special day. We have school trips to the Holocaust Museum. We do papers and projects on the subject every year. We have lectures with survivors. 

And, honestly, every damn holocaust book I read brings me to a sobbing mess, and I don't enjoy that. 

I always tell my grandma, who made it her mission to read as many of those testimonies as possible, that one day, I'll probably start seeking those stories, but right now, I am too overcome by the darkness that engulfs me when I read of it.

So, again, I wasn't planning on reading this in the near future. But then the movie was coming out, and the book was on sale, and I found out Death was narrating the story, and that it's about a young German girl in the holocaust and I became curious. So I started it.

I was almost immediately disappointed. I did not like the narration, even though it was the thing I was most looking forward to. Death's voice felt a bit choppy to me, and I did not like how he felt the need to end every chapter (or what felt like) on these ambiguous notes. It took a long while to get used to It's voice.

I was feeling very dejected (even though I was loving Lisel and her Papa), when Max came into the picture. And from that moment on, I was hooked. I didn't know (and maybe I should've) that this book tells the story of what we call khassidey umot ha-olam, and in English is apparently referred to as: "Righteous Among the Nations".

I've always loved those stories. The stories that show there were people who resisted the brainwashing; resisted the propaganda; kept their humanity intact; saw through the veil over their eyes. That's what has always been the hardest to swallow, for me; how people were able to boycott and humiliate and demean people who have been their neighbors, their friends, their partners. And yet it happened, on a massive scale.

Hans Hubermann did not forget his friends, though. He wasn't fooled. I loved that. I loved Max. I loved the relationships that bloomed between the Hubermanns and Max. I loved everything that had to do with that.

And, I'll admit, I loved reading of the Holocaust from a different perspective. Not from the direct victims, but from the eyes of a little German girl. How her life was affected by it all. What the war did to her. To them.

Like death, I still pity those in the concentration camps a lot more than the Germans. I still pity the families broken or obliterated far more. I can't deny that--nor do I feel the need to. But this story was still powerful, and served to show everyone gets hurt in a war.

And, yes, I admit it: I cried. I was quietly sobbing in my room from part ten on. It was heartbreaking. In a different way than most of the holocaust books I've read before, but not any less powerful.

(BTW, anyone else shipping Max and Lisel despite the ten-year age gap?)