I work 12-14 hours a day, seven days a week. NOTHING changes my work schedule. I work despite having pneumonia, bronchitis, in lieu of attending my children’s at-school extracurricular activities, I don’t even stop for sex (yes, I’ll bone while I work). To maintain this schedule, I must take a one-hour break once or twice a day. This break, at least for me, is crucial to my successes.
During this break, I read. It fuels my artistic ability, keeps me sharp, and prevents my brain from turning to mush.
My problem, and it’s huge, is this: I must be hooked in the first chapter (two at the most). The writer’s style and prose can be fabulous, but if he/she doesn’t interest me in EVERYTHING in a couple chapters, I can’t continue. As a result of this, I have read the first two or three chapters of thousands upon thousands of books.
In the last five years, I’ve had my go-to authors. I try others (a different author every day), but always seem to return to my go-to authors for my relief.
Vi Keeland. Penelope Ward. C.D. Reiss. LJ Shen. When I pick up one of their books, I know what I’m in for. I know it’ll allow me to escape, feel refreshed, and fuel me to get up and work another eight hours.
So, now that you know my schedule (and my concerns), I’ll tell my story.
An Amazon book recommendation is generally well-received. In fact, I almost always have a look at what they recommend. Infrequently, I read the entire book. A few chapters here, a few there.
Never (even if I am ‘hooked’) do I simply devour it.
Until now.
44 Chapters was recommended by Amazon. After a few sentences, I knew BB Easton had the ability to hook me. So, I got on Goodreads and read a few reviews, the questions on her author page, and the respective responses. Based on my findings, I decided to begin with SKIN, not 44 Chapters.
Remember, NOTHING changes my work schedule.
Nothing but SKIN.
I ditched my current project. I stopped eating. I stopped paying attention to my wife. I cared about nothing in my life except for BB and Knight.
These two characters became my life.
Easton magically inserted me into her novel of teenage despair, eating disorders, suicide, drug use, violence, sex, lust (and love), and there I remained.
Hell, I’ve been done with it for twelve hours, and I’m still living it.
What an accomplishment. To take a fifty-three-year-old man, thrust him into high school again, and capture his ENTIRE interest. This, my fellow readers, is not a simple task. We read to escape, and most of us want to escape to a place we can relate to (or at least imagine inserting ourselves into). I hated school. Loathed. Yeah, loathed is more like it. Detested.
SKIN made me love being there. Shit, I want to go back to fuckwater Kansas and get a chance at a re-do.
Easton’s writing style exhibits a poetic pace that simply sucks the reader in and doesn’t release them until the last word is spoken. For having this ability, I must applaud her.
*insert slow clap*
This story could be true, partially true, based on truth, or loosely based on real-life experiences. I really don’t care. I know this. It’s believable. All of it. The characters, their concerns, their problems, and their solutions are not only plausible, they’re realistic.
I’m not going to get into plot points, storylines, or hide spoilers in my review. I will say this: we read to be stimulated. To be transformed, through complex visualizations, into the world in which the characters live.
Infrequently, we find a book that allows us to insert ourselves into the character’s world and reside there for the majority of the storyline. We can often relate to the story, but missing plot points and hit-and-miss story structure prevent us from becoming immersed.
Rarely do we find a book that yanks us into its world Alice in Wonderland style (through the rabbit hole), making it impossible to escape until that dream (book) is over.
This is that book. Easton is that author.
SKIN stimulates the mind using Easton’s uncanny ability to properly structure a story in a manner that very few can.
With one book, Easton has climbed to the top of my author list. Perched atop that assembly of thousands of books, she sits, waiting for someone to knock her off. I’m standing at the base of said mountain grinning slyly, knowing whoever takes a shot at her is going to have to bring more than their "A” game.
Because Easton, at least as of this writing, stands alone.