Ironic casualty, of sorts

B.H. (Before Holidays), I read Demon Angel by Meljean Brook. This rare gem had languished on my TBR list for over a year and, when I finally picked it up, it took me three weeks to get through it. Amazing book. Powerful and rich.

So much so that I feared another year would pass before I could dedicate a month of reading to my next Guardian book. Through comments, Meljean assured me otherwise. “I don't think the others are quite as epic or literary,” she wrote.

So why then, did it take me nearly six weeks to finish Demon Bound?

The cruelest irony. I actually begin a book consciously expecting a page-turning pace (as opposed to a page-savoring pace).

And get the expected page-turning pace. (And the unexpected bonus of a sexy, adolescent male humor I so, so dig.)

When suddenly, my hands became too busy to turn the pages. Or even hold the book.

This and having a wisdom tooth removed smack in the middle of my holiday madness are my only two regrets of last month. Ok, not accepting prescription painkillers from my dentist counts as a third regret.

But yeah, not having the time to immerse myself in Demon Bound ranked up there with acute physical pain.

Review is forthcoming.