I have something to confess. I picked up a new book and didn’t tell you. Worse, I’ve read it. Sorry.
Let me share something personal about books and me.
You know how on a Saturday night you find yourself dateless (again) and begin aggressively flipping channels on your TV? And you catch that show where a hillbilly is storing food and ammo in an underground bunker getting ready for the End Of Days? Well, I’m that hillbilly, only with books. I have this fear of not having a read readily available.
I purchased The Flood Girls by Richard Fifield roughly two weeks ago.
I’m not even sure why I waited this long before sharing. It’s not as if I was hiding it on purpose. I wasn’t crawling around the house clutching the book to my chest and murmuring “my precious.” I’m not a total freak.
OK. I’m lying. I am a total freak, and I know exactly why I haven’t shared: I hated the ending.
Maybe not the ending itself, more the absolutely tragedy in it.
Tragedy aside, the book was a good read. I lived in the Pacific Northwest for ten years and met people like the characters in this book, folks with an edge and a tender heart. Reading this book brought back many memories, both good and bad.
I may just be a sensitive guy, get too invested in the characters. Or maybe the end was that tragic. You will just have to read it and decide for yourself. However, you’ve been warned.