The Host (The Host, #1)

by Stephenie Meyer

I was distracted, trying to find the name for my last host species. We’d had a name, I knew that. But, no longer connected to that host, I could not remember the word. We’d used much simpler language than this, a silent language of thought that connected us all into one great mind. A necessary convenience when one was rooted forever into the wet black soil.

to the ocean, north and south up and down the pretty California coastline, but I’d never been east for any distance at all. Civilization fell behind me quickly, and

Alcatraz vs. The evil librarians.

“Get back to school, kid,” he said to Jamie.

Can everyone stop calling Jamie kid? It's really getting on my nerves.

“Kyle’s head is harder than any rock in this place.”

We don’t have… wanted people.

Yeah, but people will be on the lookout for you because you're missing and presumed dead.

I wasn’t the only thing Lacey objected

She is a butt.

Please. Let me go.”

This honestly hurts to read. Gag.

Also, Petals Open to the Moon had lived in Seattle all her life, and the unbroken streak of blue skies and blistering heat was as bewildering—almost numbing—to my system as the dark press of heavy overcast skies would have been to any of these desert dwellers. The clouds were exciting, a change from the bland, featureless pale blue. They had depth and movement. They made pictures in the sky.

Excuse me?!?!? Seattle has tons of sunshine, and more cloud movement then you'll ever see in a desert. This author doesn't know what she's talking about.