Last week was a struggle for me. With being sick, and still being weak during recovery, I quickly developed cabin fever and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. By the time Saturday hit I was climbing the walls, but still too tired to actually accomplish anything or go anywhere (not that I could go anywhere anyway, because apparently you’re still contagious for up to a week after symptoms go away). I told my husband while fixing some dinner that if I had to find something else to watch on Netflix again then I would feel like killing myself (in jest; I’m not suicidal and all true suicidal feelings should be taken seriously). He suggested I read instead.
Kasey thought I should read the fantasy series I bought a few months ago with my birthday money (see: A Barnes & Noble Pilgrimage). I told him I couldn’t, because I had a plan. A plan to read the books I already owned, like my neglected classics. Then it occurred to me: my plan was stupid. I definitely wasn’t in the mood to read my classics, and I’ve really been wanting to read the new books, and why was I keeping myself from reading something I really wanted to read?
I started on the first book that night, Furies of Calderon of The Codex Alera by Jim Butcher. I’ve written several posts about Jim Butcher, all centered around a series I loved called The Dresden Files. I loved them so much, when I learned Jim Butcher wrote a true fantasy series, I bought the whole thing without so much as knowing what the story was about. And when I finally started reading them Saturday night, I was hooked. I’ve finished 2 books so far, Furies of Calderon and Academ’s Fury, and the only reason I haven’t started book 3 is because I need to actually do things with my life other than sit on the couch and read for 12 hours straight (which I did on Monday).
I’ll admit, the series isn’t as good as I expected it to be. I love it, and I’ve been completely drawn in by the story, but the numerous mistakes I’ve noticed are distracting and disappointing. Almost immediately, the book like it hadn’t been edited for punctuation. Some of the sentences don’t feel like real sentences, and there are commas everywhere, way too many commas, and in places that it doesn’t make sense to have a comma. It makes me wonder if he was in such a rush to publish that he didn’t take the time or use the right people to iron things like this out. The next big one is continuity errors. Nothing major, but they’re still there. For instance, when describing a street in the capital city, on one page the street is named Craft Lane and on the next page the street is named Crafter Lane. And, the main character is tasked with stopping a thief, who he later refers to in passing as the Black Cat, although that name hasn’t been previously introduced.
As I said, these mistakes have no bearing on the overall story, they simply lessen my experience and highlight the flaws all authors have. A lot of them were probably changes the author made during writing and editing, and they didn’t get caught before the book went into publication.
Nevertheless, I’m completely engrossed in the story. I feel like I built it up too much in my head, expected too much from one of my favorite writers, and that’s nobody’s fault but mine. It’s a beautiful story, and I can’t wait to finish it (over the course of the next 2 weeks, because each one is 600-700 pages, and that’s a lot). And, drowning myself in a new series is exactly what the doctor ordered to lift my mood and pull me through the remainder of my quarantine.