The search continues...

I thought I found a new favorite (and living!) author, but I'm afraid the excitement of the infatuation is merely the ephemeral thrill of a transient crush.  While I've been a huge Austen fan, I never strayed into the world of steam punk, unless accidentally by viewing the recent Sherlock Holmes remake films, but I strayed from the Austentine path (or shall we say branched out?) and found myself strangely captivated by the Parasol Protectorate and Custard Protocol books by Gail Carringer (albeit I only got through the second book in the Parasol books as the others were already checked out at the local library).  She is a talented author, able to paint an intriguing world and colorful characters while displaying an inordinate amount of often silly and always witty humor; there was much to attract and I thoroughly enjoyed the experience, but alas, it was not a relationship that could last, as it seems the books are far more interested in exploring the intricacies of the characters' 'indelicate' parts more than in exploring that phenomenal world or deepening our understanding of the intricate characters or fleshing out the numerous enticing plot points.

It is quite frustrating, I finally find an author with talent, ability, creativity, and a wonderful sense of humor who prefers instead to delve into things best left to the reader's imagination and trashy romance novels, letting the plot and characters languish while the reader must endure seemingly endless pages of an underclass collegian wet dream, ugh!  No wonder I prefer the company of the dead English authors: our modern world has corrupted even the most talented of living authors, much like our modern cinema which has become all impressive CGI, explosions, gore, and lurid romantic scenes, with nothing of substance or content.  Has the art of story completely collapsed into cotton candy: a cavity causing mass of airy nothing?

The ancients (those writing prior to World War I) were masters of the written word, and though sadly lacking in any commentary on lycanthropes, were still able to write a compelling story without the need of spicing things up or filling space with unnecessary carnal visions.  I suppose there is a reason Miss Austen always ended with the wedding!