Pursuant to my last entry, I inhaled a book today (“Cinder” by Marissa Meyer). From start to finish I think it was five hours to read, with only a break to eat breakfast at around one o’clock. Now that I have more data, I think I can amend my earlier hypothesis.
There is a general class of book that is easy to read, but also does not have huge amounts of depth. They can cross all genres, but you know what they are. If you say it out loud, it is “Young Adult.” Do young adults not have the emotional capacity for books with depth? More likely, high school English has burned all love for literature out of them.
Cinder was good. The big reveal I figured out by page 44, but the characters continued to be entertaining. It made itself clear that it was a retelling of Cinderella. I would not be averse to reading any of the sequels.
But, as previously pointed out, there wasn’t a lot of depth. So I should go cleanse my palate with some Terry Pratchett. “Long Mars” here I come.