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Worth Repeating: Two Fer

March 12, 2011

Purely unexpected. Early in the genre of Vampire fiction – she published two years ahead of Stephanie Meyer – Sunshine is fresh. Let’s just be clear, friends – I’m not a fan of the genre. I just liked this book.

One minute we’re reading about a girl named Rae, who gets up at 4am every day to make Cinnamon Rolls as Big as Your Head for Charlie’s coffeehouse. The next moment, McKinley starts alluding to something called the “Voodoo Wars” and you realize this isn’t just some everyday normal life after all. I LOVED this book. Loved it. Gobbled it up, inhaled it. The kind of book where you need to hurry up and finish just so you can sleep again.

The road that went to what had been my parents’ cabin was passable, if only just. I got out there and went and sat on the porch and looked at the lake. My parents’ cabin was the only one still standing in this area, possibly because it had belonged to my father, whose name meant something even during the Voodoo Wars. There was a bad spot off to the east, but it was far enough away not to trouble me, though I could feel it was there.

I sat on the sagging porch, swinging my legs and feeling the troubles of the day draining out of me like water. The lake was beautiful: almost flat calm, the gentlest lapping against the shore, and silver with moonlight. I’d had many good times here: first with my parents, when they were still happy together, and later on with my gran. As I sat there I began to feel that if I sat there long enough I could get to the bottom of what was making me so cranky lately, find out if it was anything worse than poor quality flour and a somewhat errant little brother.

I never heard them coming. Of course you don’t, when they’re vampires.

by Robin McKinley

Oh the words in Sarah Addison Allen’s books. The words!

The two giant oaks in the front yard looked like flustered ladies caught mid0curtsy, their starched green leaf-dresses swaying in the wind…Emily hesitated,then paid him and got out. The air outside was tomato-sweet and hickory-smoked, all at once delicious and strange. It automatically made her touch her tongue to her lips. It was dusk, but the streetlights weren’t on yet. She was taken aback by how quiet everything was. it suddenly made her head feel light. No street sounds. No kids playing. No music or television. There was this sensation of otherworldliness, like she’d traveled some impossible distance.

Allen weaves “just enough magic into the narrative to keep things lively but short of saccharine.”

The Girl Who Chased the Moon
by Sarah Addison Allen

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