I am very sorry that I consigned the Sookie Stackhouse series to vacation reading. I have seriously devalued the pleasure of escapist reading and for that I have read far too many books that have forgotten that they should be a pleasure to read, not just a showpiece for the author's intelligence (or ego).
I read the first novel in the Sookie Stackhouse series, Dead Until Dark, last summer when I spent five days in New York desperately trying to combat my over stimulation from snowballing into a panic attack. At night, stuffed into a tiny hotel room that looked onto a door-less courtyard, I was much taken my Sookie's feistiness, sense of humour and ability to attract buff dudes to her person. Fluffy, light, fun, full of personality and charged with eroticism, I had found a friend in the Sookie Stackhouse books.
Then I came back to Toronto and it was business at usual.
When in Tulum the week before last I gave myself full permission to tackle books two and three, Living Dead In Dallasand Club Dead. Living Dead In Dallaswas fun to read simply to spot the differences between it and season two of the show True Blood. In the book Lafayette dies, Maryanne is mentioned but her storyline is not developed, and Jason doesn't get mixed up in the scary vampire-killing church.
Club Deadis extremely thin on plot so Alan Ball's going to have to work some magic on the storyline in season three (coming this June! squeeee!). The only really good thing about this book is that Eric (hello gorgeous!) is hot and heavy on Sookie's trail and that's exactly where I want to see him.
[Have I mentioned yet that Harris writes a solid sex scene? At one point she refers to male parts as "Mr. Happy" which is atrocious but other than that you'll be wishing to take a cold shower just as many times as Sookie does.]
The shapeshifter character that Sookie gets (somewhat romantically) mixed up with in Jackson, Alcide, is a real chestnut. Sookie's insistence that she wants a real man, one that's rugged, overprotective and financially well-endowed, elicited a ton of eye rolling from me. For a series that champions the gay rights, this definition of a "real man" seemed totally backwards to me.
And now? I'm reading book four, Dead To The World. Is it amazing lazy Saturday morning reading? You damn well betcha. Escapist fluff, I thee (once again) love.