A Cornucopia of Dreams

Had an hour to kill today, over in Pleasanton, between doctor appointments, so I drove up to Dublin and wandered around in Barnes & Noble. Amazon is convenient, but I still love browsing in a real bookstore!

The mass quantities of fantasy novels (both adult and YA) I found simultaneously depressing and inspiring. There’s so much out there! Beautiful covers, bold concepts, fat five-volume epics by authors I’ve never heard of. Depressing mainly because of the avalanche of competition. I’m working on a fantasy epic of my own, and right now the prospect of finding a place for it on one of those shelves feels like lifting a ten-ton weight. Inspiring because I want to buy and read all of them!

Eragon, for instance. Years ago I tried the first book and decided it was tripe. By now I don’t remember why I thought that. But (a) it’s very successful, so Paolini must be doing something right, (b) maybe I was being too judgmental, and (c) peeking into it, the prose style seems not bad at all. So maybe I should give it a second chance.

I splurged and bought all five volumes of Michael Scott’s Alchemyst series. Could have bought the first volume to check it out, but it’s a matched set. My copy of Pullman’s His Dark Materials trilogy has a different size and cover art for the 3rd volume, because I bought it later. Matched sets are lovely.

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