B is BACK! I think I've sufficiently re-screwed my head back on to start doing this thing on a regular basis again. I've moved to the West End of Toronto (now officially known as "The Best End") and have a new job. Both changes are no longer completely terrifying. Just medium fry terrifying.
So. In the past month I've managed to blitz through the rest of the Millennium Trilogy - The Girl Who Played With Fire and The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest. Awesome! So awesome! I know that you're thinking, "But B, you have to say that, you work for the publisher." Maybe, yes, but I also read half of two books after that that I must decline to name. My love for the Larsson books is as true as Blomkvist's love for coffee and cigarettes and Lisbeth's penchant for Ikea furniture.
Caveat: I loved the first book the best because...
Why in the hell did Blomkvist and Lisbeth share virtually no scenes in the last two books? Their chemistry really made the first book pop. When I finished the third book I almost threw it across the room because I'd been eagerly awaiting their reunion for so long and that. was. it. ?? *deep breath* I've heard that Larsson meant to write 10 books in the series. Blomkvist and Lisbeth's full story died with their creator.
That said, the nimble pacing, the deft flipping between plots and characters, the fascinating complexity of the characters of Blomkvist and Lisbeth, the insider look at Swedish politics, the thrill of seeing journalism in top form—all glorious.
I've become so caught up in Larsson's bravado that no other novel is able to impress me. It's ruined me for other books. More on that later.
Have you ever read something that was so awe-inspiring that it catapulted you afterwards into a reading slump?