On Tuesday, I managed to get my butt in the driver’s seat around 10 a.m. (only an hour after expected departure–that’s a pretty good record for me) and did the 11-hour drive down to Bodega in one fell swoop.
It rained–the entire drive. The great and the terrible thing about inclement weather on a long trip is that it requires constant attention and alertness. No way to fall asleep, but no way to relax, either. And I have to admit that Stephenie Meyer’s The Host is not nearly as bad as I’d been expecting. The premise is brilliant and very creative, even if it feels like a bit of an Animorphs rip-off. The romance scenes are over-the-top and gag-worthy, not unlike Meyer’s past projects, but the rest of it is rather… well-written? Does that sound crazy? It does. But I think it’s true. Except for the part where this book is 600 pages long and really doesn’t need to be. For all the things right in The Host, including a protagonist who is fascinating and lovable and utterly strange (with an equally strange and yet totally delightful backstory), this book moves at an agonizingly slow pace. Meyer has gone right on past “reasonable amounts of detail” into “who the hell cares” territory and it is almost physically painful. (more…)