This week’s question from Booking Through Thursday is:
First—always first—the Fonz:
Next, the talk of books:
Yup, I’m one of those series deserters. Though usually I don’t think of series so much as “jumping the shark” as “getting old.” Rarely is there a cringe-worthy shark moment; instead, I just don’t really care anymore.
(Re-name the blog The Callous Reader?)
Here are some examples that come to mind:
Anne Perry’s Monk series—I got about ¼ of the way through Execution Dock and decided, “No more.”
Diana Gabaldon’s Claire and Jamie series—I started Drums of Autumn. I didn’t finish it.
Monica Ferris’s Betsy Devonshire series—I checked out Blackwork and didn’t even crack it.
Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum series—Sizzling Sixteen didn’t sizzle, it fizzled.
On the watch list: Sara Paretsky, Dana Stabenow, and Laura Lippman
Sometimes I wonder if I’d be so finicky if there weren’t so many other books calling to me.
But some long-standing series—Sue Grafton, you marvel, you!—keep me coming back for more, in spite of how many other books beckon. (See also: Laurie R. King, Earlene Fowler, and P.D. James.)