ALLEGIANT // Discussion

Note: Please be advised, there will be DIVERGENT, INSURGENT, and ALLEGIANT spoilers in this post. SPOILERS, I TELL YOU. If you are interested in my spoilery DIVERGENT and INSURGENT discussions, you can find them here and here. Also, if you haven’t entered my blogversary giveaway, there’s still time to do that! And if, for some reason, you finish reading this post and feel sad because you have nothing new to read from me, feel free to hop on over to Victoria’s blog where I talk about what it’s like to have PSTD. 

Rating: Three Stars—Good

As with INSURGENT, I’m torn on the rating for ALLEGIANT. I have fond memories of this story. I have fond memories of this series. But I also have some problems with ALLEGIANT. All this makes it difficult to determine whether it deserves more or fewer stars than I am prepared to give. (Also, point of interest that has no real relevance to this topic: I am typing this post with one hand while making a cappuccino with the other. I just thought you should know what my priorities look like.) 

Since you’re potentially wondering about my opinions on the controversial ending, why don’t I save you the trouble of skimming to the end of the post and just cut to the chase now? (This has the added benefit of confusing those who have already skimmed to the end and now have no clue what is going on.) 

First of all, I can’t give you my initial reaction upon reading Tris’ death scene, because the ending was spoiled for me (inadvertently, and the culprit felt really bad about it) a year before I got around to purchasing a copy. This is partially my fault, as I have a tendency to arrive years late to the party. (And also because I overheard the spoiler in a conversation that did not include me. *awkward laugh* I heard my friend mentioning Tris, and my ears got too excited.) I’m not mad about this anymore, as I have a tendency to peek at the ending ahead of time, and thus would have probably spoiled myself if left to my own devices. (I am, however, still bummed about the time one of my sister’s campers spoiled me for the ending to THE FAULT IN OUR STARS on purpose. Accidents are one thing. It’s quite another when someone intentionally takes away the magic of surprise from another reader. #rude) 

However, my initial reaction upon hearing about Tris’ death was textbook denial. When someone tells me something of this nature, I have this annoying habit of assuming they’ve started taking stupid pills and have absolutely no clue what they’re talking about. Poor them. So misinformed. Clearly Tris is not dead. *distant sobbing* 

I am resigned to the truth now, of course. And I suppose it’s all for the best that I got spoiled, because that left me free to read Veronica’s explanation of why she chose to kill Tris before I actually got around to reading ALLEGIANT. If you haven’t already read her post, I recommend that you do so, the TL;DR version being that the death successfully completed Tris’ intended character arc. In INSURGENT, she wants to die for all the wrong reasons (mainly, guilt and self-loathing), whereas in ALLEGIANT she chooses to die for the right reasons, thus showing how her character has progressed over the course of the trilogy. (Also, here is another post related to the ending that's well worth reading.) 

All in all, as sad as it is, I don’t really mind that Tris dies, because I do think it lends a certain sense of realism to the story. So often main characters walk away from conflicts that should have killed them, and we know they only survived because the author didn’t want to kill their precious baby cinnamon roll. I get that. In my personal opinion, I don’t get frustrated when authors play favorites and save characters who should logically have died, mainly because I read for escape as well as for mental stimulation, and there are times when I just emotionally need a certain character to not die, please and thank you very much. But I’m also not going to cry foul when an author takes the realistic route. 

I do agree that, in some ways, Tris’ death wraps up her character arc quite nicely. However, here’s where I disagree somewhat. I felt her death lacked the emotional punch and sense of finality necessary for a completely satisfying ending, because I don’t think it was entirely meaningful or unavoidable. After all, Tris is willing to brave the dangers of the death serum in order to save Caleb’s life, thus completely forgiving him and putting an altogether different price tag on her own life. But then she makes it through the death serum unscathed, only to get shot down on the other side. She doesn’t need to get shot (or killed) to make the point—braving the death serum of her own accord (even if she lives) brings her character arc to a close. 

I think if there had been more explanation as to why David was there to head Tris off at the pass, I would have felt better about it. For instance, the thought that he was just waiting for her feels sloppy, since they could have just posted way more security to take her out even before she gets through the death serum. I think her death would have felt more inevitable and more justified if she had walked in on David actively preparing to release the memory serum. There would have been a greater sense of urgency, since she could have been shot trying to stop him. 

Another thing that naggles at me is that it’s relatively easy to avoid getting shot at point blank range if you know what you’re doing, because it doesn’t take long to close the distance and disarm the attacker, especially if he’s in a wheelchair. So it bothers me that Tris doesn’t try to take out the guy with the gun before turning her back on him. What did she think was going to happen? Didn’t she spend almost the entire first book in this trilogy learning to defend herself? 

I guess what bothers me most is that she gets shot in the back. If she was going to get shot, she should have been shot facing her enemy, actively working to take him out, instead of taking it on faith that he wasn’t going to pull the trigger. Because all the signs were there that he was prepared to kill her if he had to. After all, he commended her for being willing to let him get killed in order to protect the security codes to this very room in the first place. 

She fails to assess the situation. She gets stupid. She gets killed. I don’t like that. Not the getting killed part—the getting stupid part. I’m okay with deaths that happen because of stupidity, but not when they’re the deaths of beloved main characters. I feel like they deserve a little more respect than that. 

Okay, now let’s talk about what was going on while Tris was busy getting herself killed. 

Oh, right, Tobias was talking down a homicidal tyrant using puppy eyes and love. 

See, this is what I don’t buy. I don’t buy Evelyn, a hardened woman who has been exiled from her faction and separated from her family for over a decade, at the cusp of full control over the city that has never loved her and must now bow to her, suddenly going all soft and sentimental and choosing her absent, unforgiving son over the sense of power she has so desperately craved since probably the moment Marcus started hitting her. I certainly don’t buy her handing all this over to Marcus’ side in the name of love. Love is powerful yes, but not necessarily fast-acting. 

I also don’t like that the main conflict is resolved by a simple conversation. I don’t like the fact that everyone, each side with legitimate and long-standing grievances against the other, suddenly backs down and decides to act nice like this was all just some big misunderstanding. People are talented at many things, but they are especially good at prolonging conflict past the point of all reason. So their sudden capitulation makes the ending feel rushed and over-easy, like a suspiciously runny fried egg. 

Backing up a little timeline-wise, now that we have covered the climax, let’s talk about the connection between the slaughter of the Abnegation and David’s decision to reset the experiment. When it comes down to it, the whole point of the experiment is to produce more Divergents. It’s not about fixing human society or learning more about human nature. It’s just about somehow making two genetically-damaged parents produce genetically-corrected spawn offspring children. And then having this pattern repeat itself all over the entire city, until somehow humanity has righted itself. Even if we were to ignore the fact that damaged genes beget even more damaged genes rather than two wrongs making a right, there’s still a problem with this part of the book. Namely, WHY THE HECK WOULD DAVID ASSIST IN THE OBLITERATION OF THE FACTION WITH THE MOST DIVERGENTS? As I’ve already said, the whole point of this experiment is to produce Divergents. So why would you do something in the name of protecting the experiment that only delays the experiment’s successful conclusion? We call this behavior counterproductive, folks, and it’s normally frowned upon. 

Say I’m growing experimental potatoes, but I keep getting weeds, and they keep choking my plants. Also I have bugs, and they’re trying to eat all my experimental potatoes. #rude Do you suppose I should go through and fix the problem by plucking the weeds and killing the bugs, which would take time and effort but would ultimately save the largest amount of experimental potatoes that can be saved in this hypothetical? According to David, I should just, you know, take a blow torch to the whole thing in hopes of maybe having a few viable experimental potatoes at the end. Because in terms of money and resources, that’s the smartest option, right? Right? 

Wrong. 

If David has the option of reseting the entire experiment (using the memory serum) in order to keep it from tearing itself apart, and if the biggest goal of having this giant petri dish of human amoeba is to make them reproduce, then he should have had no qualms about reseting the whole shebang when things started to go south in the first place, which was when the Abnegation leaders were planning to release information about the outside to the general public. A flick of the wand, some magic dust, and poof! Problem solved with minimum loss of Divergents. You’re welcome. 

On a related note, it also doesn’t make sense that our darling David would team up and supply simulation serums to Jeanine—the one woman most intent on rooting out and killing all Divergents (which, might I remind you, ARE THE ENTIRE STINKIN’ POINT OF THE ENTIRE FORSAKEN EXPERIMENT). *ahem* I am calm. 

ALLEGIANT was frustrating in other areas as well, namely, Tobias’ entire existence. In DIVERGENT, he is mentally strong and he is cool and enigmatic and pretty decent book-boyfriend material. In INSURGENT, he is less so, but whatever. I understand that the situation is a little more tense, and we all crack a bit under pressure. But come ALLEGIANT, he has progressed from a well-adjusted, capable male to a whining drama queen king. Little mister special snowflake gets his feelings hurt when the big, mean scientist tells him his genes aren’t as cool as Tris’ genes. A couple-hundred-page-long tantrum ensues. People die. 

Perhaps you are beginning to understand my frustration? 

Instead of being the Four that overcame his painful backstory to become the number one Dauntless initiate of his year (as well as the initiate with the fewest fears of ever), he becomes the spoiled brat who can no longer function as he has before because he’s not as special as he thought he was and suddenly he’s fearful and insecure about everything. Perceptive, intelligent Four becomes weak-willed, petty Tobias who allows himself to be led on and used by a woman with very clear, very bad intentions. Yet, despite all this, Tris pulls the “he sharpens me, we sharpen each other” line. Like, no you don’t. You spend most of your time fighting about petty things, not communicating about the important stuff AT ALL, and lying to each other half the time. And when you warn him about not doing the stupid thing, he accuses you of jealousy and then proceeds to do the stupid thing. You do not sharpen each other. You are not good for each other. You two are a toxic combination, and your continued affection for each other does not make sense to me. Tris, you need to ditch the manchild and date Matthew. (Ignore that last line. I got a little overexcited.) 

In somewhat-related terms, the whole main thrust of the story seems to be making the point that there is really no difference between those who are genetically damaged and those who are genetically pure, that human nature is universal and inescapable, no matter your genes. I would be onboard for this message if it weren’t for the teeny, tiny, slight issue where the majority of GDs in ALLEGIANT do stupid, irrational, dangerous things while the majority of GPs do rational, helpful things that don’t involve accidentally blowing up their friends. I get that if you live in a culture long enough where you are told enough times that you are bad, you will be more likely to do bad things, because the human psyche is weird like that. And I understand the whole “us against them” mentality. But that doesn't happen with everyone. And Four is the new kid on the block, so what’s his excuse? (This is actually not a rhetorical question, as I am still on the fence here and am curious about your opinion on the matter.) 

And then my last issue has to do with the dual narrative. I could barely tell the viewpoints apart. I have a good memory, yet I kept forgetting which character’s head I was in because, after the first fifty pages or so, the two POVs became essentially identical. Even on my second reread, I kept wondering why Tris was suddenly a guy. My sister listened to the audiobook, which has a female narrator and a male narrator, and she kept getting them mixed up too, which is when you know you have a problem. 

In conclusion, I realize that I spent this entire post talking about negatives. There are definitely parts of ALLEGIANT that I loved (otherwise I would have given it one star, not three), but this post is already super long, so I don’t have time to cover the positives. I guess you could just assume that I liked most everything else in the story, for the meantime. And maybe eventually I will revisit this discussion and talk some more about the DIVERGENT trilogy. 

What are your thoughts, my little coffee beans? What do you think about ALLEGIANT? What problems did I miss? What were your favorite parts? Which is your favorite book in the trilogy? What do you think of the movie version?

INSURGENT // Discussion

Note: Please be advised, there will be DIVERGENT and INSURGENT spoilers. SPOILERS, I TELL YOU. If you missed my spoilery DIVERGENT discussion two weeks ago, you can find that here. Also, if you haven’t entered my blogversary giveaway, you should probably do that. (Or you could procrastinate like I do, since you have until the end of September. Don’t worry, I’ll keep reminding you—unless I forget.) 

Rating: Four Stars—Great 

Here’s the thing. I’ve read and watched a lot of reviews claiming INSURGENT is better than DIVERGENT, and I’ve always felt vaguely confused by this. Perhaps it’s just a matter of personal taste. I’m not sure. What I do know is that giving INSURGENT four stars feels generous, since I don’t feel the story warrants more than three. However, I get super nostalgic about the whole trilogy, which is why I'm giving it an additional star. Because that's how I roll. 

Let’s start out by talking about a few of the things I liked. 

—In INSURGENT we get to learn more about the different factions. We get to see a few more sides to Erudite, for instance, in the way Cara and her friends develop technology for the Amity to be able to defend themselves without killing anyone. I like that we get to see how Amity favors peace over justice, to its detriment, while those in Candor settle for being honest instead of making sure they are also doing the right thing. 

—In DIVERGENT, we were introduced to the idea of the factionless, which was cool, and in INSURGENT we get to know this large people group a lot better. We get to see how the faction system has effected them and how they feel about that system. All good stuff. 

—We get to learn more about Four’s backstory. In DIVERGENT we had the intriguing, mysterious Four, and in INSURGENT we get to see some of the environmental aspects that shaped him into the person he is now. I wasn’t as huge a fan of Four in this book as I was in DIVERGENT, but what we do learn about his past compliments DIVERGENT Four quite nicely. 

—I found the various reactions to the concept of Divergence satisfying, especially Lynn’s theory that the whole thing is a hoax. People don’t always like stuff they don’t understand, so it makes sense that some, like Lynn, would tailor their views of the world to make themselves feel safe. 

—Peter. I love Peter. Not in an I-would-like-to-snog-him way. More like an well-isn’t-that-an-interesting-bug sort of way. (It’s still love though—don’t laugh.) I like that we get to explore more of his driving motivations and the way his psyche is structured. I also like that even when he does something good (like saving Tris), it’s for selfish reasons. 

—I like that there’s no Tris-centered love triangle. 

—I love that Tris gets a chance to tell Will she’s sorry for killing him, even though it’s just in a simulation. 

—I like that Caleb betrays Tris and that this allows us to understand him better. 

—Although there are some definite weaknesses in the world building, I even like some of the ideas behind the formation of the faction system. But I’ll discuss that more in my ALLEGIANT discussion. 

Unfortunately, I have some issues with INSURGENT. 

—There are several internal consistency errors (which Veronica talks about in this post). For instance, on page 77 of the hardcover edition, Tris is unarmed, although she is carrying a gun in the previous and ensuing scenes. On page 134 Tris says the Dauntless don’t bother with antiseptic wipes before shots, which contradicts the time in DIVERGENT when Eric uses one on Tris. There are a few others, but I don’t think I need to list them all to make my point, which is: 

—I don’t think Veronica was given enough time to edit this book thoroughly. I think she would have benefited from setting the story down between drafts and taking large enough breaks (I'm thinking in terms of a month or two) to be able to see the writing with fresh eyes the next time she picked it up. This would potentially have helped with the internal inconsistency. Also, there were ways in which the writing overall could have been smoothed out and tightened a bit more. 

—Too. Much. Passive. Tense. I understand that passive tense can be useful at times. But there were so many sentences that could have been phrased differently to make the story feel more active. Honestly, I don't know if this is a purposeful stylistic thing or if it's just one of Veronica's weak spots. Either way, it bugs me. 

—Overall, the story has less meat. In DIVERGENT, we have a lot of layers. We have Tris struggling with her decision to choose Dauntless. We have Tris making friends and enemies. We have Tris learning how to fight and defend herself. We have Tris’ whole friendship-turned-enemyship (totally a word) with Al and her regret when he kills himself. We have the mystery of what it means to be Divergent, and we have the fear that someone in Dauntless will find her out and kill her. We have the whole issue with the simulation serums. We have Four and Eric's rivalry going on. We have Tris finding out more about her parents. And we have Tris' budding relationship with Four, among other things. 

But in INSURGENT, we have fewer layers. We have Tris’ continued relationship with Tobias/Four. We have Tris’ desire to figure out what caused the Abnegation slaughter. We have continued hostilities among the factions. We have Jeanine being Jeanine. We have Tris finding out a bit more about herself, her parents, and Four. We have the side love triangle. And that’s about it. Though the story takes a bit longer to tell, it feels watered down, more filled with repetitive introspection and less with fresh, new story. Yes, I understand that this is a sequel, so there are going to be ways in which the story doesn’t feel new in the same way that DIVERGENT felt new. But, in my opinion, it ended up more like a mush middle and less like it’s own entity. 

—Tris and Four’s relationship isn't nearly as much fun to read about in INSURGENT as it is in DIVERGENT. In many ways, it seems toxic. They’re too touchy-feely yet simultaneously hostile to each other. And if you think about it, they’re still essentially strangers. While they have been through a lot together, and while they know each other’s fears and such, this has all happened in a relatively short period of time, and they haven’t had much of a chance to get to know each other beyond the trainer/trainee relationship. In the end, I felt uncomfortable with their romance on several levels. 

—Okay, first of all, I have PTSD, so I know what it’s like. I’m not saying that it’s the same for everyone, or that my experiences are the end-all-be-all of what it means to have PTSD. So please, take what I say with a grain of salt. That being said, I think the portrayal of Tris’ PTSD falls flat. Her inability to hold a gun after killing Will feels overdone and not fully explained. Maybe if it were fleshed out a little more I would be able to understand but, even so, that’s not how PTSD works. 

After all that she’s been through, as callous as it sounds, killing her best friend is going to be small potatoes in comparison with the others stuff her brain is processing. She was almost drowned—why isn’t she nervous when washing herself? She was in an all out slaughter—why doesn’t she have to struggle every single time she goes into a crowd? She was beaten up by her simulation-controlled boyfriend—why doesn’t she experience a couple moments of fear in relation to him? I know that she does have some flashbacks, and I appreciate that. I understand her guilt at killing Will, I do. But I don’t like that that’s the reason given for why she gets anxiety every time she tries to pick up a gun, and I don’t like that her inability to pick up guns is the strongest sign of her PTSD. It would make more sense if this were stemming from all the bad memories of all the people shooting at her and getting shot around her, not just the one case that has more to do with regret than fear. 

(And yes, I realize that sometimes the mind goes for the smallest, most quantifiable element in situations like this, but I’m not sure it does to this degree.) 

—I also think her experience with grief is not as realistic as it could have been. To help you understand what I’m saying, think about grief as similar to getting hit by a truck. You feel the initial strike, and you get knocked off your feet. You know that something horrible has happened, even if you haven’t quite pieced together what that is. This is why people often cry when bad news is broken to them. It’s stressful and confusing, and the brain just doesn’t know how to compute. It realizes it’s going to be in a lot of pain, and it gets upset. Crying is a way of dealing with this. 

Then, after getting hit by said truck, and after skidding down the road a ways, or whatever, there’s a brief window in which you don’t really feel anything. This is denial. You’re like, “Oh wait, no, this is fine. I’m good. I can walk this off, because I was not just hit by a truck. Surely you jest.” Then the anger hits. “Dang, that driver should have been watching where he was going. I feel really upset right now. If I could move, I would punch that idiot in the face.” (But you shouldn't do that, because an open hand strike to the nose or a backhand to the temple are both more effective and less needlessly hard on your knuckles.)

Then you think, "Please don't let this be as bad as I think it's going to be. It feels like there are pieces of me all over the place, but maybe if I promise to stop cheating on my taxes, whatever higher power there is will let me get away with a few bruises." After that, the pain hits, and it hits hard, like you’ve just been hit by a truck all over again, only significantly worse. Naturally, this is depressing, and it also happens to be the longest stage (usually). It takes quite a while to recover, both from grief and from getting hit by a truck. But generally, after time has passed, you begin to realize you are going to be okay. This is acceptance. You got hit by a truck, but these things happen, and you are ready to move on. 

I realize this is a somewhat flawed comparison, because some of these reactions happen in a matter of seconds after getting hit by a truck. So maybe it’s more accurate to say that grief is like getting hit by a truck in super, duper, uber slow motion. That’s why I think Tris’ experience doesn’t feel organic. She skips right to the stage where the pain hits, and that doesn’t feel true to her character. I’m not saying people don’t skip stages. But Tris seems like the type to respond to distressing situations with anger, as she does when Molly and Peter and Drew shame her by stealing her towel. And I think it would have made more sense to see Tris raging through the first two thirds of INSURGENT before having a meltdown in the last third. 

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In conclusion, my relationship with INSURGENT is weird. When I first read it, I loved it, but then I reread it and found it wasn’t as good as I had remembered. (This would be my second reread.) I don’t hate it, and I will probably reread it every now and then over the next forty-or-so-years, or however long I live. Even with its flaws, I appreciate its potential, and I like seeing Veronica’s fingerprints on the story, because I really like Veronica as a person. If you haven’t read her old blog (which she doesn’t update anymore), you really should. Soon I plan to write a post highlighting how great a blogger she is/was (she does still use Tumblr, but it’s not the same). 

Anyway, I don’t want to keep rambling on and on. This post is already long enough as it is, so I will just leave you with my review schedule for the next two weeks, and I will see you Wednesday: 

Monday, September 5th: ZENITH review

Monday, September 12th: ALLEGIANT discussion

Oh, and before I forget: You may recall how I complained a while back about how ugly the DELIRIUM trilogy covers are. Well, wait for it...

They were redesigned! So now I can buy them without feeling the need to claw out my eyes. 

That’s it for today, my little coffee beans? What are your thoughts on INSURGENT? Did you think it was better, worse than, or equal to DIVERGENT? Do you like the new DELIRIUM covers? 

DIVERGENT // Discussion

WARNING: There will be spoilers. 

Rating: Five Stars—ajklsdflk (when words fail to describe how wonderful a book is)

At long last, after hinting about doing this for the past few months, I am finally beginning to discuss the DIVERGENT trilogy. Please hold the applause. 

While this was my fourth time reading DIVERGENT, I feel it’s important to talk about the first time I read this book. I read DIVERGENT in 2013, shortly after ALLEGIANT came out (though I didn’t get a chance to read INSURGENT and ALLEGIANT until late 2014). Now, in 2013 I was an avid reader, but most of the books I read had already been out for several years, so I wasn’t up to date with the popular trends in YA literature. 

When I first sat down to read DIVERGENT, I was in a bad mood. On top of that, I had to read the book on my sister’s iPad, and reading on that screen made my eyes hurt. But I really wanted to read it, because the cover was pretty (yes, I am a crow and I like shiny things), and the hype had made me curious. Also, sister-mine had liked it, and I trust her judgment. However, because I was feeling contrary, and because I had read a short review that said DIVERGENT wasn’t very good, I grumpily decided that, while I was going to read DIVERGENT, I was going to look for all the reasons I should hate it. 

*cracks knuckles* *whips out red pen* 

And, sure enough, I wasn’t hugely impressed by the writing in the first few chapters. Yep, I admit it. I see your eyes traveling up to the rating; I see you checking to see if you read it right the first time. Don’t worry, it says five stars. I’m getting there. 

Like I said, I didn’t think the first few chapters were well-written. I found some of the repetition of information annoying, I found the build-up to be slow, and I found a couple passages that seemed like info dumps. On top of that, the overall writing was a bit choppy. 

This warmed my evil little heart. In my first sitting, in which I had read thirty pages or so, I had successfully determined that it was a sub par book. (I will admit, I was also going through a stage where I felt very insecure in my writing. I hadn’t succeeded in finishing a workable rough draft yet, much less an edited novel, and I was desperate to see myself as a good writer. At this point in my life, that took the direction of putting down all published authors so I could feel better about myself. No, I am not proud of pre-November 2013 me.) 

I even spent a good half an hour talking to my mom about all the faults I had found in the first thirty pages, mistakes I would never make. *rolls eyes* I even considered DNFing it out of spite, even though, hello, it hadn’t done anything to hurt me and I was being a butt. 

But then, the next day, I read a couple more pages because I was still strangely drawn to the book. I didn’t get a chance to read much because we were driving to my cousins’ house (one of my favorite places on earth), and it was a four-hour trip. (I usually can’t read while riding in a car, especially not ebooks.) Instead, I had packed other books and had planned to focus on those over my vacation. But then THE ENTIRE DRIVE I could not stop thinking about DIVERGENT. I even pulled it out and made myself car sick trying, unsuccessfully, to read a few pages. The closer we got to my cousin’s house, the more excited I got to just hole up somewhere and eat that book. 

And here’s the part where my lack of experience with popular YA comes into play. Back then, I wasn’t as familiar with the popular tropes because I read a wide range of things, but mostly older books and classics and middle grade and adult. While my obsession with owning books in general started with getting a copy of THE HUNGER GAMES, my obsession with reading YA and owning YA started with DIVERGENT. 

There, I said it. You have it in writing. Clearly I am not a real reader. 

(Sorry, I couldn’t resist. I’ve seen such an attitude against people who get started reading because of THE HUNGER GAMES and TWILIGHT and DIVERGENT. But you know what, whatever gets you obsessed gets you obsessed. I was already a reader before, of course, but I wasn’t the same reader, and DIVERGENT changed that. I will give credit where credit is due, even if it means pretentious people judge me.) 

Moving on. 

I honestly did not know what faction Tris was going to choose. Looking back, I realize it should have been obvious. I’d even seen the previews for the movie, though I hadn’t paid close attention to them. But it shocked me when Tris dropped her blood on the coals. Blew my mind. And I like getting my mind blown. I hadn’t had my mind blown like that since the cliffhanger ending in CATCHING FIRE. 

To be completely honest, I predicted nothing in that book. Looking back, I laugh my head off because so many books are so predictable and I cherish the times when a book surprises me. I don’t think 2016 me would be surprised by many of the major events in DIVERGENT, simply because I have had much more experience. 

Here’s the thing though. I read that book so quickly. I ate it up and surprised myself in doing so because this was during a time when I had difficulty prioritizing and finishing books. I had a bad habit of starting a book, reading fifty or a hundred pages in one sitting, and then starting another book until I had seventeen or more going. And then I would get discouraged, shelve all the books, and start new ones. So the fact that I read DIVERGENT in roughly a week is saying something. I even braved the car sickness and finished it on the ride home. 

I felt everything, during a time when I wasn’t feeling much. The ferris wheel scene and the zipline scene made me feel alive. In fact, I fell in love with Dauntless as a faction because of those scenes. (Fun fact: Those scenes weren’t in the book when Veronica sold it. During revisions, her editor suggested she include scenes like those to remind the reader why Tris loves Dauntless enough to stay, which worked for me brilliantly. You can read more about it here.) 

As violent as it makes me sound, I loved the scene where Tris destroys Molly and the scene where Edward gets stabbed in the eye with a butterknife, because I loved what they say about Tris’ character and the people she’s up against. I fell in love with the enigma that is Four. I felt for Tris as I saw the damage that had been done by her faction in stressing one virtue (in this case, selflessness) to the exclusion of all others—because we require balance, which I realized as I saw Tris learning about the very virtue she had supposedly turned her back on by choosing a faction that favored another virtue (bravery). The pacing was killer. I never wanted to set it down. I kept thinking, “one more chapter, one more chapter” and I normally have a lot of self control when it comes to books. To this day I sometimes get distracted and set them down mid-sentence, even when I’m really absorbed. For me to get sucked in, to the exclusion of all else, is a miraculous feat. 

Having read it another three times since, I still see all the little faults. The sentence structure tends toward choppiness; the writing is a bit too spare for my taste and relies too heavily on passive tense; information sometimes gets repeated too much. Etc… I see where it would be probably a little predictable (though not in a bad way—it just wouldn’t blow my socks off now). If I had read this for the first time last month, I probably wouldn’t have been able to overlook these things as easily, maybe because I am pettier now, maybe just because I am far more familiar with YA as a whole and it's getting harder to wow me. But the fact that the story made me forget the issues I did see and love it despite its flaws speaks volumes. 

So here’s the thing. I feel this pressure to revise my rating, to deny my deep love for this book because it is popular to hate on it, at least in the circles that I have run against far too often. I am not saying that if you hate it, you are a bad person. Obviously you have good reasons for your negative opinion, just as I have good reasons for my positive opinion. I’m more addressing the slightly snobbish attitude that keeps popping up in reviews, the idea that those who love DIVERGENT have poor taste or are stupid. I’ve seen the same attitude, even more magnified, aimed at people who love TWILIGHT, almost like it’s some secret, bookish community test. “Oh, look at the n00b. You love TWILIGHT? You love DIVERGENT? Clearly you have no taste and don’t know this genre and are just pretending to be a reader. Those are probably the only book titles you know. Real readers don’t give books like DIVERGENT five stars. Blah blah blah.” 

A lot of these people are trolls, and their opinion shouldn’t matter, shouldn’t affect me. But sometimes it does anyway. 

Maybe you have not encountered these attitudes. Maybe you couldn’t care less. I know I care far too much about how other people see me, and that frustrates me. DIVERGENT managed to overcome my desire to hate it. It made me fall in love against my will. Yes, I see more of its faults now. But I am still the person who read that book, even if I have had more experience since. And I’m tired of trying to convince myself to see DIVERGENT as sub-quality literature because a bunch of people have tried to use peer pressure to change my positive experiences into negative ones. (Goodness, I sound paranoid here. I promise I’m not paranoid. Is that a camera?) 

In two weeks, I’m going to be talking about INSURGENT (and DIVERGENT a bit more), because I do want to spend time discussing the stories themselves. I just felt it was important to talk about this, because it was a phenomenal reading experience for me, and the idea that I will get judged for that makes me want to stick a butterknife in my eye (but, not my eye, if you know what I mean). 

So here is a list of things to keep in mind, for your sake as well as mine:  

You are allowed to love a book, no matter how hyped or over-hyped it might be. 

You are allowed to love a book, no matter how popular it might be to hate it. 

You are allowed to love a book, even if you also see its flaws. 

You are allowed to love a book, even if loving it makes you look like the new kid on the block. 

You are allowed to love a book, even if loving it makes more pretentious readers turn  up their noses at you. 

You are allowed to love the books you love, and you are not even required to give a good reason. Other people don’t get to determine whether or not your love for a book is valid. 

That is all. 

What about you, my little coffee beans? Have you read DIVERGENT? What were your thoughts about it? And if you’re curious about my short-term reviewing schedule, next Monday I will be reviewing MISERY by Stephen King, followed by more DIVERGENT discussion the Monday after that.

Bookish Discussion #4 // Libraries vs. Ownership

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Over the past three blog posts, I’ve covered my opinions on the issue of bookish aesthetics and whether caring about a book’s appearance makes a reader shallow. (You can find the links here, here, and here.) If you’ll recall, I’ve written these posts in response to some negative opinions on BookTube, and now I want to tackle another issue: the fact that some bookworms get judged for buying a lot of books. 

First of all, let me just say, I do think it’s possible to buy too many books, but only under certain circumstances. If you’re having trouble making ends meet, for instance, spending a hundred dollars on books is not a wise choice, and you would be buying too many books for your situation. On top of that, there is also the issue of space. Sometimes you just don’t have enough room to store your books, and it would be unwise to buy more, as you could suffocate under a pile of books and die. And we can’t ignore that books can become a status symbol, and that those with larger collections can forget why they buy those books in the first place. No one likes a snotty bookworm who lords their book collections over the less fortunate. But aside from a few exceptions, I don’t think you can buy too many books. So let’s talk about why I'm always growing my collection. 

When I was young, I frequented the library, and I eventually reached a point where I had read the majority of the interesting-looking selections on the YA shelf. (It wasn’t a huge shelf, but it was still a grand achievement in my eyes.) At that time, I didn’t own too many books of my own, and it was perfectly natural to borrow the books I wanted to read. But then I got one of my first introductions to the frustration of libraries. After reading and falling in love with THE HUNGER GAMES, not only did I have to wait for CATCHING FIRE to come out, I also had to wait for everyone and his uncle on the waiting list to read it first. It was horribly inconvenient, and I still haven’t recovered from the shock of it (okay, that’s a lie, but hopefully you get the point). Then there was the matter of those books never being on hand again when I wanted to reread them. Consequently, my then-minuscule book collection got its first major kick start when I asked for THE HUNGER GAMES and CATCHING FIRE for Christmas. 

Suddenly my reading life was so convenient. I could read those two books as often as I liked. I could finish THE HUNGER GAMES and then read it all over again if I wanted to. There was no one to complain about due dates and late fees and all that lame stuff. Furthermore, I didn’t have to worry about whose grubby hands had touched those books before me (because I can be a bit of a germaphobe). They were mine, and mine alone. And during that glorious time, I began to realize how important ownership was to me. When the physical copies because truly mine, so did the stories themselves. They became more a part of me than I could have ever thought possible. 

So many of the books I libraried during that time have faded from my memory, and if I hadn’t kept detailed records of my reading habits, I wouldn’t even be able to tell you the titles of some of them (and I have a really good memory for book titles). 

Nowadays, with the benefit of hindsight, this feels like a loss. There were so many stories that I read and loved, and I didn’t get to keep them—I didn’t get to cherish them. I feel their absence. One of my biggest goals is to buy copies of all the books I loved during that time so I can remember those parts of myself. 

See, the thing is, when I read stories, I like to absorb them and allow them to shape me (or not, if they’re awful). They become mental scrapbooks for my thoughts, and rereading them strengthens my memory. However, that doesn’t happen with library books anymore. Instead, I feel like I’m reading them with gloves over my mind. I can enjoy the stories, and even engage a little, but they don’t touch me in the same way. I feel more like an observer than a participant, and that bothers me. But I can’t seem to allow myself to experience them in the way that I would like to because, in the end, I have to return them. And it hurts so much more when it feels like I’m returning a piece of myself. As strange and lame as it sounds, I find greater peace and comfort in reading something I know I can keep for the rest of my life. I can allow it to effect me, because I know I won’t have to give it up. I won’t have to feel like there are slices of my soul, lined up on shelves for strangers to paw through and wear out. 

Not to mention, we eventually switched libraries, and our new library didn’t have as great a selection. Sure, we could use interlibrary loan, but we had to pay about three dollars shipping for each book we borrowed that way, and it just seemed more logical to pay money for books I could keep instead of books I had to return. Now that I’m in Virginia, I have a relatively large library with a great book selection at my disposal, and I have been using it. In fact, I prefer to borrow books I’m unsure of, so I don’t have to regret buying them if they’re awful. But if they’re great, I’ll still end up wanting to buy them. 

On top of that, there’s another, larger reason why I prefer to buy books. Authors must eat (strange, I know). They must provide shelter for themselves, and they must wear clothing (unless they are nudists). Not to mention, they sometimes like to go out to the movies, or eat at restaurants, or buy books for themselves, among other things. In order to do all this, it helps if they get payed for the books they write. (You can call me Captain Obvious, if you’d like.) While I realize that my book orders won’t buy an author more than a candy bar, if that, I know that sales add up. And I want to support authors and the industry I love, even if I can only do that in small ways. Libraries are wonderful, yes, and I highly recommend them. But it has always bothered me that, when a library is concerned, an author only gets payed once for something fifty or a hundred people will read. Wouldn’t it be better if they got payed fifty or a hundred times, instead? I would rather pay for my admission to a story, so to speak, even when there is a free ride available. I want to do my own small part to help the publishing industry thrive. 

I could go on and on about my other motivations for buying large quantities of books. But I’ve taken enough time as it is. In the end, regardless of my many reasons, it all boils down to this: buying books is a good thing. Some people don’t have the money, and they shouldn’t feel bad. Some people prefer to avoid clutter, and that’s fine. Some people don’t reread, so buying books feels extraneous. That is okay. Some people just really love libraries, and I support that. I won’t judge you for your book buying choices. They are yours. But I would also like to enjoy my own large book collection without feeling like that makes me shallow, just as you should feel free to enjoy your stamp collection or your bowling ball collection or your taxidermied fish collection. 

What about you, my little coffee beans? What are your book buying habits? Do you prefer to keep your collection small, or are you growing your collection? Do you like libraries, or do you prefer to read books you own?

Bookish Discussion #3 // Cover Love

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Last week, I spent a couple days discussing bookish aesthetics and why I don’t think it’s okay to judge people who are concerned with the way their books look. (You can find the links here and here.) But today, I’d like to talk a bit more about the importance of nice book covers. 

Let’s say you’re in a well-stocked bookstore, and you’re just browsing, hoping something wonderful will catch your eye. It stands to reason that it’s in the publisher’s best interest to provide books that do just that. Granted, an ugly book could be a thousand times deeper and more interesting than the gorgeous hardcover displayed next to it. But let’s face it, there are so many books out there, and you’re not going to be able to read them all (GASP). Which is why it’s nice to have a system that helps you choose which books are worth your time. 

So, without any further ado, let’s talk about some book covers and designs that do their jobs well. 

ILLUMINAE

ILLUMINAE is a prime example, not only because the cover is gorgeous, but because the insides are gorgeous as well. Just by flipping through a couple pages, you can tell the book took a great deal of time and effort to design. Of course, the insides could still be rubbish, and you wouldn't know that until you read it, but hopefully the design conveys that the publishers at least thought the story was something special. Had it looked like it had been thrown together at the last minute, you might come away feeling uneasy, and perhaps you’d be a little slower to buy it. As I've said before, a publisher that doesn’t seem to care about the outward product might also not care too much about the story itself. Hopefully you would love it anyway, regardless of its exterior, but you have to want to pick it up first. 

INSURGENT

I do intend to discuss the whole DIVERGENT trilogy at a later date, maybe in a month or two. For now, I just want to say that I vastly enjoyed INSURGENT the first time I read it, but found myself a little disappointed when I reread it. Even so, every time I see it on my shelves (which is every day), I get the urge to reread it because the cover is insanely beautiful and atmospheric. True, the cover doesn’t make the story any better. But it does improve my reading experience, and it ensures that I will give the book at least a third, or fourth, or fifth chance (I reread a lot). 

ANNA DRESSED IN BLOOD

Covers are always a matter of personal taste. What looks wonderful to me might not look so great to you, and vice versa. Some people love covers that feature girls in dresses, for instance, but as a general rule, I’m not a huge fan of that design format. To me—and this is just my opinion, so take it or leave it—those sorts of covers don’t convey much about the story they’re representing. In fact, they seem like the easy way out, like the cover artists didn’t have enough time, ideas, or money. Or maybe they just didn’t care enough. Either way, it looks like they chose something easy and generic—attractive, usually, but not special. However, ANNA DRESSED IN BLOOD is a notable exception. 

Because Anna’s outfit plays such a huge role in the story (in case you hadn’t gathered that from the title), the dress is relevant to the plot. But there is also detail beyond just the girl and the dress, and that helps set the mood even further. For instance, we have the blood dripping off the hem of the dress and down her legs, and we have the whole vintage feel going on. We can see a thick ground fog in the foreground, and a haunted-looking house in the background. Bits of torn red ribbon (at least, I think it's ribbon) provide accent and visual interest. Even Anna’s posture communicates a great deal. Added together, all these elements set the tone of the story. We know we’re going to be reading something creepy, dark, and atmospheric, but also a touch whimsical, romantic, and sad. Ultimately, the cover is one of the reasons why I bumped ANNA DRESSED IN BLOOD up on my book-buying priority list. 

Yes, book covers aren’t necessarily indicative of the story’s worth or the author’s skill, and it’s possible that focusing too much on lovely book covers can lead you to miss out on some wonderful literary gems. But with so many stories to read, and so little money to spend on them, I prefer to library the ugly books and buy only the books with covers that delight my heart. And that brings me to my next discussion topic, library vs. ownership, which I’ll be discussing on Wednesday. 

In the meantime, here are some random book covers for you to analyze (if you’d like to). I’d love to know what you think of them, what emotions/thoughts you think they convey, and whether they would have any impact on your book buying decisions. 

  

  

Well, that’s it for today, little coffee beans. What are some book covers that make you go all grabbyhands? What are some book covers that do the opposite? How do you decide which books to buy and which books to borrow? What are some of your favorite book covers, and why? 

Bookish Discussion #2 // Bookish Aesthetics

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In case you missed my first Bookish Discussion, let me just catch you up a little. On Wednesday, I referenced a video (which you can find here), that summed up of some attitudes in the bookish community that have been bothering me. Now, I do recommend that you watch the video to get both sides of the argument, because I don’t believe this BookTuber shouldn’t have said what she said or that she is dumb or anything like that. Of all the BookTubers who shared similar sentiments, hers is the politest, most intelligent representative. But the main point I want to address here, that was referenced in her video more nicely than it was in most other places, is the idea that BookTubers and book bloggers who are concerned with the aesthetics of their books are too looks-oriented. 

So, first of all, let’s talk about used books. Plenty of readers prefer used books over new books because they have character and because they have more story to them than their newer counterparts. They’ve been read, reread, annotated, dog-eared, stained, loved. To many readers, the lives these books experienced before reaching their hands is just as fascinating as the books themselves, and it makes those books treasures. They are valuable, like aged cheese. (Blogging rule #127: When in doubt, include a comparison to food.) Not only that, but used books are often cheaper. 

And you know what? I see nothing wrong with enjoying or even preferring secondhand books. If those bring you loads of happiness, then that is wonderful. But while I don’t hate used books, they don’t bring me loads of happiness, and there’s nothing wrong with that, either. 

When I was younger, I tried so hard to get into the mindset that it was foolish to pay more money for new books when you could simply buy used. After all, I didn’t have much money to work with in the first place. I tried to convince myself that it was stupid to care so much about whether or not the spine of a book was cracked or if the cover got creased. I got angry at myself for crying when I lent out my books only to have them come back worse for the wear—dirty, ratty, water-damaged—and I told myself it was silly to contemplate replacing them with my hard-earned money just so I could have new-looking copies again. I told myself it was selfish not to want to lend them out just because I didn’t like them getting damaged, and I told myself it wasn’t fair to ask people to be super careful with them. It wasn’t fair to get upset when they didn’t treat them as well as I did. I thought there was something wrong with me because damaged books took away the joy of reading. 

And then, after a few years, it hit me. That is my personality type. I was wired to keep a neat, orderly collection—to crave cleanness and newness. I was wired to love the beauty of a pristine book. I wasn’t wired to love well-worn paperbacks, and it wasn’t fair for people to ask me to change my own personal preferences simply because they didn’t understand or share them. Just because my books are in perfect condition, doesn’t make them any less loved. In fact, when I love a story, I show my respect and affection for it by taking care of the book. Just because I love my books differently than others doesn’t make my methods any less legitimate. 

So let’s break down the way my brain works, starting at the superficial and going deeper. 

To me, new books just look so much better. I get a rush of happiness when I see all the shiny, new books while shopping in Barnes & Noble, and I like getting that same rush from seeing my Barnes & Noble-esque bookshelves. 

I have found that the more effort I put into keeping the shelves in my room aesthetically pleasing, the more my room feels like a haven. Some people visit museums or art collections in order to center themselves and reduce tension. Well, my books are my own private art collection, and I treat them accordingly. Where some people might hang paintings, I display the books I find particularly attractive. They are my decorations, and to assume that the inside of a book is the only form of art involved is to miss the art of the exterior. I handle my books carefully, to make sure that the art I love doesn’t get destroyed or defaced. After all, you wouldn’t shove your favorite painting into your backpack, or touch it with greasy fingers, or fold it down the middle (at least, I hope you wouldn’t). I value books like I would value a Van Gogh, and so I treat them accordingly. And I bet it’s similar for other bookworms who prefer keeping their books in good condition. (However, if your preferred art form is a battered book, than that is your prerogative, and we can live in peace, provided we respect each other’s personal styles.) 

Another, very personal reason for keeping my books in good condition is this: A lot of traumatic things happened to me when I was a child, and often books were the only safe place my younger self could find. Sometimes the only control I had in my life was the way I treated my books. I might not have been able to prevent myself from losing my home, friends, and possessions twice, I might not have been able to keep my church body from ripping apart, and I might not have been able to stop all the other bad stuff from happening to me, but I could at least make sure bad stuff didn’t happen to my books. To this day, books are still my haven, and I like to keep my safe place untarnished. If you have not experienced a difficult childhood and needed a safe place of small control like that, I don’t fault you for not understanding where I’m coming from. But lack of comprehension doesn’t make it okay to judge. 

My last major reason for taking good care of my books is more on the practical side. Let’s face it, books cost money (I know, I was shocked to learn that, too). There are so many books out there that I would love to buy, but I only have so much money to spend on them. I would rather not burn through cash replacing books I’ve worn out. Instead, I would rather make sure the copies I have last for a good long while so I can focus on growing my personal library. 

In the end, it all boils down to individual preference, and neither choice of style is wrong. It’s not wrong to like pretty things, and it’s not wrong to not care as much about pretty things. Granted, yes, some people take it too far and focus so much on the exterior of their books that they forget why books are valuable in the first place. But I would recommend withholding judgment until you truly know a person, or you run the danger of focusing too much on that person’s exterior (their outward behavior) and too little on their heart. And wouldn’t it be nice if we could just all respect and appreciate each other for our differences, even if we don’t understand life on the others side of the fence? 

What about you, my little coffee beans? Are you cool with lending out your books? Have you had any bad experiences from lending out books in the past? Do you prefer used books or new? Are you extra careful with your papery darlings, or do you not mind if they get roughed up a little?

Bookish Discussion #1 // Judging a Book...

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Note: I realize I’m quite behind on commenting on blogs and answering comments on mine. I'm so sorry about that. Rest assured, I haven’t forgotten any of you, and I will try to catch up over the next few weeks. In the meantime, please bear with me. 

For the next few days I figured I would tackle some topics I’ve been meaning to discuss for a while but haven’t felt entirely confident addressing. If you’ve been reading my blog over the past month or so, you’ll know that I started following a bunch of BookTubers because I figured it was about time I got a feel for that sort of culture. But a little while ago, I encountered a corner of BookTube that had been “calling out” vloggers who are concerned with the aesthetics of the books they buy (these videos would have been filmed about a year ago). One vlogger, especially, argued that buying books based on cover love—as well as avoiding ugly editions and used books—is shallow. She also expressed confusion about why vloggers don’t feature many library books in their videos, and why buying books is such a huge fixation in that culture. 

Please don’t get me wrong. It’s perfectly okay if you just don’t understand people like me who like buying nice books and keeping them in good condition. But it does genuinely bug me when people imply my bookish habits make me shallow, so I figured I would speak up about my own point of view. (If you've read my blog long enough, you may have noticed that I love inserting unsolicited opinions into the mix.) 

Today we’re tackling cover love. (And, in case you’re interested in my plan for the next few posts, I’lll be talking a bit more about bookish aesthetics on Friday, analyzing some book covers on Monday, and broaching the subject of libraries vs. ownership next Wednesday, if all goes well.) 

Traditionally published authors rarely get much say in what their book covers look like. Of course, there are exceptions to the rule. Some writers—like Stephenie Meyer and Michelle Hodkin—get to offer varying degrees of input on their cover designs. Usually, though, the piece of art that represents a story to the world at large has nothing to do with the author’s vision or desires. 

Because authors don’t often get to pick their cover art and all that fun stuff, it doesn’t seem fair that my decision whether or not to read a book should hinge on something so superficial and seemingly irrelevant. “A story is a story,” people argue. “The book is the words and the thoughts conveyed, not the pages and the pretty picture. It’s so shallow to avoid ugly or second-hand books just because they don’t look good. You silly person.” 

Hold your horses. I shall explain myself. 

One reason why ugly covers can be a big turn-off is that cover artists are supposed to convey the feel of the book. If I don’t like the emotions or thoughts conveyed by the cover, that could be a good indication I won’t like the emotions or thoughts conveyed in the book. Of course that’s not always the case, but it is possible, so it’s something I take into consideration. Additionally, if a cover is tacky or shoddily done, I do have to wonder how much faith the publisher (and the artists by extension) had in the book, and how much time and money they were willing to invest in making quality cover art. If they don’t seem to have put that much stock in their own book, I’m naturally going to be a little leery. 

Perhaps you don’t find that reason sufficiently satisfying. “That’s based on guesswork and subjectivity,” you argue. To which I say, “Fair enough. Let’s try something more personal.”

I have synesthesia, which means something that triggers a single sensory response in a normal brain triggers multiple sensory responses in mine. (I’ve mentioned before that I see letters, numbers, and words as having color. That is just one manifestation of synesthesia.) Many people don’t hugely care about their book covers because those are completely separate from their reading experiences. They may not find a cover particularly attractive, but they don’t consider it detrimental to their enjoyment. This is, by far, not the case for me. While reading, my mind automatically equates the color, design, and texture of the physical book with the story itself. This means that, when you mention INSURGENT, you think INSURGENT, but I think INSURGENT. (Putting it that way is overly simplistic, but I'm not sure how else to convey the thought—sorry.) For me, the aesthetics of the physical book are a strong part of the story itself, and I cannot separate the two in my head. The cover is the book and the book is the cover. Both the superficial and the tangible matter equally to me. This isn’t an indication of how shallow or deep a person I am—it’s simply how my brain is wired. 

If a book is absolutely fabulous, an ugly cover can still mar my reading experience, as hard as I try to keep the insides and the outsides separate in my mind. In the same vein, cover redesigns bother me because, once the color and texture of the story have been set in my head, no other edition feels like the right fit. This is the main reason why I spend more money and more time buying books selectively to make sure I get attractive editions, and this is why I am more likely to be forgiving of lesser books if they have great covers. This is also why I’m a little leery of libraries, but I’ll go into that more next Wednesday. 

If my reasoning makes me seem even more shallow and superficial than I did before you read this, oh well. I tried. Have fun judging me. In the meantime, I’ll just be sitting here, stroking my gorgeous bookish darlings. Enjoy your jealousy, and don’t forget to come back on Friday for further discussion on bookish aesthetics. 

Well, that’s it for today, little coffee beans. What are your thoughts on cover love? Do you prefer attractive books? If your answer is yes, what are some of your reasons? Do you not care what your books look like? If so, why? What are some attitudes in the blogosphere or the BookTubesphere (I don’t think that’s the right word, but I don’t know what else to call it) that bother you?