I just finished N. K. Jemisin’s The City We Became and I’m absolutely in love.
With the story.
With the concept.
With the point of view.
She. Is. Brilliant.
But first the news:
- Cabinet to accentuate the positive and ease lockdown, sources say
- KLM to Restart More Flights; Mouth Masks Required on Flights
- Over a third of teachers concerned over schools reopening
I fell in love with N over her Broken Earth trilogy – every single book in the trilogy won a Hugo – and my only complaint is that when I finish each book, I’m in shock for a few days.
Well, not so much in shock as I’m a bit mopey.
Well, mopier than usual.
Well, depressed but in a way that I can point to the exact reason and it’s not as debilitating.
So that’s where I am.
And while I really did have some sort of stomach thing going on last night (and also this morning a bit) I think it was also because I was getting to the end of the book.
I finished it this morning and the second book won’t be published for MONTHS.
And I remember this feeling when I finished the third Broken Earth book. And Celeste Ng’s Little Fires Everywhere. And Erin Morgenstern’s The Starless Sea. And Will McIntosh’s Love Minus Eighty.
You get the point.
It’s familiar.
And the only cure is to find the next awesome book.
So whatcha got, Warriors?
Feed my addiction. We’ve already established that you’re my enablers.
Enable me!