Saturday Spotlight is a weekly feature in which I honor a book, character, or author that has consumed my mind and may be the cause of future therapy sessions.
{This week my Spotlight turned into a half-rant, half-fangirling session. But hey, that’s why I have this feature – to express my feels here so that I don’t become a puddle of mush that sobs whenever somebody mentions the words “book” or “Jem Carstairs”. Oh, and you guys can express your bottled-up feels in the comments below, too. We bookworms need to look out for each other’s mental health.}
Admittedly, not much (or rather, not enough) reading has been going on in my life this week. This is to my complete dismay, because when I told people I was coming to uni to study a BA (Bachelor of Arts, or “Bugger All” degree as most adults like to call it), the general response seemed to be, “Whoa, lucky you! Just don’t develop a liver problem from all the partying. Spend those hundreds of hours of free time wisely.”
Ha ha. Ha. Ha ha ha.
Lemme tell you something, guys. While my friends studying Accounting and Business have all been out drinking and/or sleeping for 16 hours a day, I’ve been reading theses on nature of historiography until roughly 2 a.m. every single night.
So let me correct my previous statement. This week, I’ve read all too much. Just… nothing you guys would really want to hear about. (Because I can assure you that you don’t want me to explain how all the history we study could actually be lies and we wouldn’t even know because we don’t have a TARDIS. Yeah. It makes my head hurt just thinking about it.) (Also, I just want to point out that I’m totally loving all the course-reading we have to do. It’s mind-blowing. We’re studying things I never even considered before I got here, so I’m in this constant state of, “THE WORLD IS CHANGING RIGHT BEFORE MY EYES. WHAT IS LIFE? WHY IS THIS ABSURDITY MAKING COMPLETE SENSE?” But in a good way.)
But it is at times like these – on a Friday night*, alone in my bedroom and desperately needing something to take my mind off the daunting poetry essay I have to write tomorrow – that I turn to old favourites for comfort. My head needs a rest. I need something that will help me escape to an alternate universe with deadly problems that will overshadow mere essays and assignments. Preferably written by a kickass author whose words can make me laugh through my tears. And with a storyline that will keep me hooked even though by now I know each plot twist backwards. And epic characters with a knack for sarcasm. That one’s a must.
*Yes, I’m typing this up on a Friday night. Sue me. It’s cold and raining, so there’s no way that my friends and I are getting out of our amazing beds just to trudge through muck and end up in a sweaty club/bar. Gross. My book would never ask that I stumble through mud and rivers of rainwater just to have half an hour of fun. My book respects me.
For me, the obvious choice here is Queen Cassandra Clare. I mean come on, how could you possibly feel glum after reading some of her beautiful prose? Or better yet, witty banter between Jace and Simon, or the Will and Jem bromance scenes, or the general kicking of ass by epic Shadowhunters? Even writing about it makes me feel brighter inside. Just from hearing one of the characters’ names, my entire focus shifts to the part of my brain where I’ve stored up a lifetime’s supply of happiness reserved especially for Shadowhunter fangirling. Everything else – all my troubles and woes about essays and assignments and dammit where did I leave my copy of the Odyssey? – is miraculously forgotten.
Of course, a new problem arises when I don’t want to go to sleep because I’m so caught up in reliving all the memories I’ve made within these books. This might sound weird, but you have to understand that when I read Cassandra Clare, I’ve invested so much of myself in her story that it feels like a part of my soul is trapped inside the books. It shimmers just beneath the words on the page, illuminating passages I identified particularly strongly with, dancing beside the characters as they play out their destinies, screaming at them when they make stupid-ass decisions and mess up monumentally…
Okay, it did sound weird. But that’s what happens when you have a favourite book. There’s a special connection that only you can make with the words on the page, and once it’s been established, there’s no turning back. (And if one of your beloved characters dies, you’re f*cked. But I can promise that Cassie Clare won’t betray you like that… more than once.)
(And look how pretty the new covers are. *swoon*)
If you haven’t read any of Cassandra Clare’s books yet, WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH YOUR LIFE? GET ON THAT. Seriously, one of my friends showed up to uni having not read a single of Clare’s books, and just two weeks later she’s already on City of Heavenly Fire. Commitment. You could all learn from her. The Mortal Instruments and The Infernal Devices will change your life, especially if you love fantasy. Don’t waste your life on other mediocre books. They might have cool aliens or moody protagonists and whatnot, but we have Herondales. And Herondales beat everything.
*End of major fangirling session*
Apologies for feels and my general disrespect towards the Caps Lock key. As I touched on before, I haven’t slept much this week. But all that aside, I meant it when I said that I genuinely believe everybody needs to read Cassandra Clare’s books. Like, immediately. You’ll be doing yourself a favor, trust me.
When you’re done, come back here and we can cry over Shadowhunter things together.
ALL THINGS AMY 