On a busy European street, the killer serpentined through a crowd. He was a powerful man. Dark and potent. Deceptively agile. His muscles still felt hard from the thrill of his meeting.
Hm, I'm still not embarrassed to like Tolkien or Adams.
In fact, Douglas Adams bears partial responsibility for my current outlook on life (and in particular, my skeptical approach to just about everything), and I don't think that's necessarily bad. There are a lot of worse things I could've read when I was 12.
However, I used to like Marion Zimmer Bradley more than I really care to admit. I still think that The Mists of Avalon is a good book, but, to borrow your expression, not as mind-blowing as I thought when I was 16.
Oh, I have, and yes, it is. However, that's pretty much what I thought about it at the time—I just happened to read it at a point in my life where I was starting to think skeptically about things, and it was a great comfort in that respect.
Hey, I'm not claiming that Mists is great literature or nuthin'. It's still a fun story, though, even if Gwenhwyfar IS a whiny bitch.
The humor has dated in a way that's hard to define, and I recall one critic pointing out his tendency to lean on Ultra this and Mega that when he couldn't think of a joke.
I had the mixed pleasure recently of listening to the entire radio series, as it was posted to USENET, during/following the posting of the final two phases of the radio drama. It was at times quite sluggish, with humor that seemed forced (to my ear, no doubt after hearing the same bit murdered by a hundred nerds since I read the book (and, I regret to say, probably laying a few such bits to rest myself)) with interminable periods where I just wanted the plot to move having completely lost patience for the latest interruption or digression from the Book.
*inhale*
But then the plot made me long for an amusing voyage of the mind to that planet where the plane was waiting for the rise of civilization so they could take on lemon-scented towels, or whatnot, because, here I was, listening to Arthur explain tea to the nutrimat, for the 12th time, and the frustration just grew...
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In fact, Douglas Adams bears partial responsibility for my current outlook on life (and in particular, my skeptical approach to just about everything), and I don't think that's necessarily bad. There are a lot of worse things I could've read when I was 12.
However, I used to like Marion Zimmer Bradley more than I really care to admit. I still think that The Mists of Avalon is a good book, but, to borrow your expression, not as mind-blowing as I thought when I was 16.
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All I can say is, take another look at Hitchhiker's Guide, if you haven't since you were twelve. It's still funny, it's just... a little sophmoric.
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Hey, I'm not claiming that Mists is great literature or nuthin'. It's still a fun story, though, even if Gwenhwyfar IS a whiny bitch.
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*inhale*
But then the plot made me long for an amusing voyage of the mind to that planet where the plane was waiting for the rise of civilization so they could take on lemon-scented towels, or whatnot, because, here I was, listening to Arthur explain tea to the nutrimat, for the 12th time, and the frustration just grew...