InnerTeub

The problem with books is that when you’re (I’m) into a really good one, you don’t want to do anything else. I don’t want to watch TV or go to work or talk to my spouse, I just want to stay in that world and readreadread until I’ve devoured it. Frankly, it kind of ruins my life, a little bit, loving a good book. Everything goes on hold until I’m done. I once ran to a Borders after work to buy the last book in series and started reading it at STOPLIGHTS ON THE WAY HOME. You know that Kerouac quote that every high schooler way over-identifies with, the “the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars”? That’s how I feel when I’m knee deep in a good story – my mind feels like it’s tripping over the words on a page, candles exploding across my brain, mad mad mad, incapable of reading quickly enough to satisfy.

Which is my lead in to say: dude, the last Sookie Stackhouse book is out.

Ok, LOOK. I didn’t say I burn burn burn for good books. Just a good story. And say what you want: the Stackhouse books? Are a great story.

It’s a funny thing about the series: these books are not good, except for how they are so, so good. The elements of ridiculous are so extreme (telepathy? Vampires organized by kings and queens? The clothing descriptions??) but the world Harris created feels almost ordinary. Commonplace.

I started reading them after watching the first season of True Blood (which is based on the books.) I loved that show and wanted more, immediately, so went and picked up the first book. And then the second. And then all of them. The TV show, in some ways, is better, but Sookie as a character in the books? Man, she is the tops. I’d say the first two books in the series are weak, the awesomeness really picks up in book three, and the party just rolls through books four and five, things get weird around book six, but the joy ride continues through till book 8ish. The last book just came out and I’m glad it’s the last one – it’s time to wrap this party up, all good things must come to an end and all that – but man, I wish I could back and relive the experience of reading these books for the first time. I was almost literally clapping with enjoyment while reading them, and I’m not even misusing the world “literally.”

If I had to pick the thing I loved best about these books, it would have to be the voice of the main character  Sookie. Her inner monologue is so dead-on and realistic that you can really pretty much skate through the fact that she’s a telepathic barmaid in a world where vampires and werewolves and fairies are real things. Book-Sookie (who far superior to TV Show- Sookie) reacts to situations exactly the way you would react, I mean, what would you think when being threatened by a vampire overload?

“I could torture you until you told me the truth, or until I believed you had been telling me the truth from the beginning.”

Oh, brother. I took a deep breath, blew it out, and tried to think of an appropriate prayer. God, don’t let me scream too loud seemed kind of weak and negative.

 Or her thoughts after responding to being asked what size clothing she wears:

What size dress do you wear, Sookie?

“An eight.’”

(Sometimes more like a ten. But then again, once in a blue moon, a six, okay?)

 No worries, Sook. It’s cool. We’ve all been there.

I’ll miss Sookie Stackhouse – the way she is written, she feels like a friend. Charlaine Harris does such an incredible job bring the world of Bon Temps alive and making it seem relatable, ordinary – no small act of magic considering the subject matter. What a wonderful treat, to have read these books. Cheers to you, my fellow fans. Enjoy the latest – and last – book in this series. I know I will.