The Gargoyle by Andrew Davidson

I predict that The Gargoyle by Andrew Davidson is going to be a hit. Unfortunately, it's coming out three days after Breaking Dawn so it won't get the media, but people will find it and they will love it.

An overview from the inside cover of my ARC: "Marianne Engel is a beautiful sculptress of gargoyles who appears in the burn unit one day and tells the narrator of this mesmerizing tale that they were lovers in medieval times, when she was a scribe and he was a mercenary. Is she simply mad? Or is she truly the angel of mercy who will save him from his suicidal despair?"

The first half of the book is incredible, in a visceral, shocking way. Plus there's a lot of mystery surrounding both the narrator's story as it is revealed, as well as Marianne's appearance and her story. It made for an amazing, exciting experience. My personal feeling was that there was no way Davidson could possibly keep up that level of tension and exhilaration for all 464 pages, so I wasn't too surprised when the emotions started to level out in the second half. I'm also not into the whole past-lives-fated-lovers thing. So I don't hold it against him. It's still a great read, even if I wasn't enamoured with the second half.

I got my copy at this year's BEA convention. E knew that I was interested in the book, so when he saw that Andrew Davidson was signing, he stopped and had Davidson sign a copy for me. "The inscription reads, "For Renee, Your husband is a lovely man... Andrew Davidson."

My favorite passage:

I once knew a woman who like to imagine Love in the guise of a sturdy dog, one that would always chase down the stick after it was thrown and return with his ears flopping around happily. Completely loyal, completely unconditional. And I laughed at her, because even I knew that love is not like that. Love is a delicate thing that needs to be cosseted and protected. Love is not robust and love is not unyielding. Love can crumble under a few harsh words , or be tossed away with a handful of careless actions. Love isn't a steadfast dog at all; love is more like a pygmy mouse lemur.

Yes, that is exactly what love is: a tiny, jittery primate with eyes that are permanently peeled open in fear. For those of you who cannot quite picture a pygmy mouse lemur, imaging a miniature Don Knotts or Steve Buscemi wearing a fur coat. Imagine the cutest animal that you can, after it has been squeezed so hard that all its stuffing has been pushed up into an oversize head and its eyers are now popping out in overflow. The lemur looks so vulnerable that one cannot help but worry that a predator might swoop in at any instant to snatch it away.

The Gargoyle by Andrew Davidson

The Host by Stephenie Meyer

Now that the release of Breaking Dawn is imminent-- IMMINENT, I TELL YOU-- I've been thinking a lot about Stephenie Meyer again. Firstly, let me reiterate once more how big a fan I am. I read each book twice. I stood in line for an hour at BEA just to get a Twilight tote bag. I read every outtake from her website. I am going to go to the midnight release party on August 1 at my local bookstore despite the hordes of giggling teens that are bound to be there. My point is, I'm completely on board.

So truly mean no disrespect when I say that Stephenie Meyer just isn't the best writer out there. I love her, but let's face it: her prose is not stellar. Now, I absolutely don't say this as an insult. It's just an observation. And in fact, what Meyer is able to do despite (or more likely, because of) her lack of English-major literary prose is far more important to me than simply impressing my professors: she cuts right to the emotional core of her characters and their relationships. The most important aspect of any story is precisely where her strength lies: connecting emotionally with her reader. Her plain writing allows us too meld the images so plainly laid out with all the emotional baggage and psychological imagery residing in our own heads. The result is nothing short of miraculous, given the widely disparate backgrounds of her readers.

I don't read much sci-fi. I think vampires are inherently ridiculous. So how is it that a book about body-snatching aliens so completely held my interest, and moved me emotionally, no less? I don't have anything to add to the multitude of reviews and opinions on The Host, except that I continue to be amazed. If it's not Shakespearean prose, what is it? What is this amazing ability that Stephenie Meyer has, and how can I get some?

The Host by Stephenie Meyer