It took me a while to finish reading Eldest, what the hell am I saying, it took me four bloody years! Well, technically since I bought the book back iIt took me a while to finish reading Eldest, what the hell am I saying, it took me four bloody years! Well, technically since I bought the book back in the same year the movie Eragon was released... I would say that I was busy, and then I’d be half-lying. I’ve been busy before and it never stopped me from sacrificing what little time I have to sleep. The truth was, Eldest lacked the appeal the first book had. Eragon was at least decent and it had that kick start which made you hope for better, only you’ll soon find yourself disappointed. With Eldest, it felt like I was reading a very boring diary of a very dull person. Sure, there are sword fights, kidnapping, murders and wars, yet, it felt a little bland. It made me wonder, just why on earth did I start reading the series in the first place? Was it because it was fantasy or was it because I was intrigued by the idea of a different world where there are dragons, witches and an evil lord. Or was it because I saw myself in Eragon’s action? I haven’t a clue.
Still, I wouldn’t call it dreadful. I’ve read worse and I’m not being bias just because of its genre. It had promised. Honestly, it did. Cut out the long explanation of elf exercises and Eragon meditating and throwing tantrums and the elves and everyone else being total pricks, I was pretty sure it’d be a pretty good one. Alright, maybe I’m not all into excessive details, I’d like to imagine it, and I like to see how the characters are and make guesses. I hate being feed by a whole load of information, it makes my head hurts and resent the story even when it’s a good one. In short, information is good, but too much could very well kill the story. I don’t even want to start on the pace – at least Stephanie Meyers had the decency to skip the months... And *cough*Gary-Stu*cough*... I’m just glad I didn’t pull out any of my hair out of annoyance.
Right now, I don’t know whether I would ever read the third and the fourth book. I’d like to know what happen, but another trip like Eldest; I might just throw the book away or worse, burn it. ...more
I wonder if I ever had an imaginary friend. I don’t suppose I did, growing up, I was quite normal. A little off my centre seeing as a girl I prefer toI wonder if I ever had an imaginary friend. I don’t suppose I did, growing up, I was quite normal. A little off my centre seeing as a girl I prefer to climb trees instead of playing tea parties, nonetheless, I was normal.
Elizabeth Egan, she has a normal rigid life. She has routines and rules and schedules. Fun is definitely not on her daily to-do list. She came from downright messed up and crazy family. Her mother left her and her sister in the care of their father when she was only twelve. She stopped believing in fairy tales and basically fun. She dedicated her whole life fixing things, running to her younger sister’s aid, taking the resentment from her father. She was in every sense trying to be the best version to pick up the pieces. She tried to have her life on her own but then was pulled back to raised her sister’s son, Luke.
Life was just that, an assortment of schedules. At least that was how she lived it until Ivan came into her life. Luke’s grown up friend, a friend who basically seemed to be around her age more than of Luke’s. He basically took her world, shake it up and turn it upside down. He made her laugh, he taught her how to hope and most importantly, he taught her how to live once again. The question was, was Ivan real or was he just an imagination. Alas, she learned in the very best possible way that life should be lived.
I’d have to say, really, Cecelia is a good writer. Sure, I began reading her books simply because she’s related to Nicky Byrne of Westlife... Well, I’m a fan of the band. Still, she had taken the chick lit genre to another level. In fact, I don’t think I’d even dare to call this one a chick lit. The struggles and hardship of which Elizabeth was going through was more than your average every day ‘I love him, I love him not’. It was about finding oneself and living. It’s about acceptance; it’s about love in so many words. It was something else. If PS, I Love You managed to make me cry, well, If You Could See Me Now had managed to make me look at life in a different way and love living even more.
Still, I think I need t check with my mother to see if I ever had an imaginary friend when I was a child. I really don’t want to be talking to an imaginary friend in my thirties. That’d be... Well......more