I finished 4 books during the month of March. That's so depressing I'm thinking of jumping off the nearest roof. By comparison - I read 10 books in February. Puny, teeny-tiny February.
What went wrong? I hit on a terrible batch of review books. Dreadful. Dreadful enough that I was beginning to question why I keep doing that job for free. Heck, I should at least start taking bribes to combat the pain and emotional suffering.
Hitting a skid like this is always hard, as it turns me off books entirely. I don't want to read. I start thinking about dusting my living room. I think that maybe I should clean The Boyfriend's bathroom more often (a job that requires hazard pay most of the time). So when I'm down like this I like to play with my TBR. Just because I'm a geek like that, and The Boyfriend was starting to make grumbling noises about how he couldn't close the closet door in our storage room.
I am a girl without a regular book case - so most of my books are kept in RubberMaid totes. However, I do have one hanging shelf, which The Boyfriend cheerfully hung up this weekend. He's so good - he didn't even pass out when he saw all of the books I have. I really should do another count and catalog the mass - but I'm afraid. Afraid of the books toppling on me and becoming buried alive, plus afriad that I'll actually have a number to work with. Sometimes the not-knowing is just better.
In reading news, I did finish up The Burning by Susan Squires this weekend. It very much follows the norm of her previous vampire books - slow moving, gothic and tortured characters. The romance is a little light in the pants, but Squires writes strong character studies, and gothic junkies (like myself) should enjoy the atmosphere. This series definitely fits the bill for readers who like their vampires dark, haunted and with lots o' baggage.
I'm awaiting new review books (and praying), so in the meantime I'm trying to plow through some TBR books. Rule of thumb - if it fails to engage me after 50 pages it hits the trade bag. I'm sorry, my addiction has gotten so out of control that I cannot waste my precious "non-reviewing" time on books that are meh.