Alcatraz vs. the Evil Librarians (Alcatraz, #1)

by Brandon Sanderson

So there I was, tied to an altar made from outdated encyclopedias, about to get sacrificed to the dark powers by a cult of evil Librarians.

In that way, grandfathers are kind of like kangaroos.

The point is that many times, the first thing a person presumes about something—or someone—is inaccurate. Or at the very least incomplete.

After all, orphans usually make very sympathetic heroes.

I would ask you to kindly refrain from drawing conclusions that I don’t explicitly tell you to make. That’s a very bad habit, and it makes authors grumpy.

“I can say things that make absolutely no sense whatsoever.”

Caves. Caves, shadows, and cheesecake.

“You think a little island like that spawned a language used by most of the world?”

She was silent for a moment. “I lost my keys,” she said.

Every time I read it, I get intense Sam "I lost my shoe" Winchester vibes. And I laugh.

The weirdest part about all of this, I thought, is that nobody yet has made a joke about a pair of kids named Alcatraz and Bastille getting locked in a prison.

I apologize for that last chapter. It was far too deep and ponderous. At this rate, it won’t be long before this story stops speaking of evil Librarians, and instead turns into a terribly boring tale about a lawyer who defends unjustly accused field hands. What do mockingbirds have to do with that anyway?