I have favorite authors, people who could write on a used tissue and I’d be interested in what they had to say. Their books need no reviews to sell me. I'd buy their novels without reading the page cover.
And when those books are laid out in a series of familiar characters, well now, boy howdy, out of my way cuz I’m first in line to lay down cash. That makes it easier, knowing what they write, knowing that I’ll love what they write.
Jim Butcher is one of those authors. His series, The Dresden Files and The Furies of Calderon are just the kind of meat-and-potatoes type fantasy that I love.
Patricia Briggs’ Mercy Thompson series, beginning with Moon Called, is my gold standard of urban fantasy.
Patrick Rothfuss has written only two books with the third and final of his Kingkiller Chronicles due out next year. I’ll be knocking people over to get to that one. The Sookie Stackhouse series belongs to Charlaine Harris, another series that never disappoints.
Recently Julie Kagawa caught my attention. The Immortal Rules pulled me into her world with The Iron Fey as a side trip.
These authors give me what I want. Entertainment, good writing, plausible storylines. Well, as plausible as fantasy can get.
They write. And I buy anything and everything they care to give me.
That said there is another kind of author who makes me scream like Vincent Grey in The Sixth Sense, YOU FAILED ME.
Yeah I know, like they care. But still…
Two of those authors, who I won’t name, angered me beyond the capacity for rational thought. One lady’s ending made no sense. Throughout the series, the MC verbally slapped everyone who lied to her. Then, at the end, told the biggest whooper ever. It made me so mad I wanted to throw my Kindle across the room. Grrr.
Then another author, who thrilled me last year with three ExCellent books, totally let me down when he journeyed into PreachyTown. And not just one or two pages, but every Freaking Chapter. Blah, blah, blah.
What a cryin’ shame! I find a great story and the author slithers into the folder labeled Shrug.
A book that doesn’t end exactly as I expect doesn’t fall into this category. One example is the ending to The Hunger Games. Good book. Not what I expected at the end but still superb.
No, what I’m talking/ranting about is an author who lectures or moralizes. Sometimes it seems to me as if the author is tired of the character and writes ‘The End’ to break off their relationship.
Are you disappointed with some authors who once held the mantle of Beloved? Will you buy their next book or give them another chance?