The Death Of A Good Book

My DH asked me to make a list of things I wanted for Christmas. At the top of that list was a book by one of my favorite authors - a book that was just released in late November. Normally, I'm right on something like that, buying a new release right away, but this time, I didn't. I hadn't picked it up yet simply because I couldn't find it at Wal-Mart or Target or Borders, the few stores I frequent these days. And since the DH asked for this list three days before Christmas (yeah, he's a guy, does his shopping last minute), I was sure I wouldn't find it under my tree.

Turns out, I was wrong, and the book I'd been eagerly anticipating was wrapped up nice and neat on Christmas morning. I was shocked. And the DH - though he was happy he got me something I wanted - was probably less than thrilled. You see, my wonderful hubby learned long ago not to buy books for me for Christmas because the first thing I do with a book is read it. Well, isn't that what you do with a book, you ask? The answer - of course - is yes, but I'm not talking about cracking the thing open and reading a chapter or two between Christmas visits. No, the obsessive-compulsive side of Elisabeth has to read the whole damn thing, start to finish, usually in one sitting if she can manage it. And though this smart man knew this about his wife, still he bought me the book.

It's a sick obsession, really - one my husband is regretfully aware of - my inability to start something and not finish it no matter how good or bad it may be. There are really few books I don't finish, and although I know it's not productive, I can't seem to stop doing this. If it's a good book, I'm dying to see what happens next. If it's a mediocre book, I read and compare my writing to that of some unknown published author (or well-known, in some cases). And if it's a bad book, well, I still read it, usually because inside I'm thinking, this haaaaas to get better. Unfortunately, sometimes that just doesn't happen. In that case, it's like waiting for a a train wreck you know is coming but are unable to stop. To coin a phrase Karen used yesterday, WTF? still doesn't make me stop reading.

So I got this book - one I'd resigned myself to reading later because I was sure I wouldn't get it. I was elated when I opened the package and saw the cover, showered my DH with kisses and was flabergasted he'd found it for me when I couldn't. I immediately cracked it open and started reading. You see, this book is fifth in a series I've been following. Book one was pretty good - I had a few issues with it, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. Book two drew me right in - loved the characters. Book three was my all-time fav by this author and after reading it, decided she's on my auto buy list from now on. It was that good. Book four was okay - not as great as three, but I liked it regardless, and really, they can't all be classics, right? I know that. But book five? The one I'd been waiting for with bated breath? Sure from talking to this author at Nationals and reading her excerpts and basically stalking her, that it would be similar to book three...the one I loved so much? Gah. Big time let down.

Of course I read it. And of course I finished it (I couldn't NOT finish it, since that's my sick and twisted obsession). And though there were some things I really liked about it (like a great external conflict, a heroine I totally related to, and wonderful descriptions of a country I've never visited), there was a lot of stuff that just bugged me to no end.

When I finished - a day later - and the DH asked me if it was as good as I expected, I couldn't help but think about the books I love and the ones I don't, and what the major differences are between them. For me, it all boils down to characterization. If I love the characters, I can get around anything in the plot, even events or turning points that seem contrived or forced or even lame in some cases. But if there's something about the characters that bug me, odds are I won't like the book, no matter how stellar the plot may be.

I have other pet-peeves when it comes to my fiction, among which are:

• Juvenile characters. Their actions might be honorable, but if their internals are screwed up, they just don't fly with me.
• Hooks that go nowhere. Ones that get me invested in the characters and then fizzle out when the real plot starts. Feels like bait-and-switch to me.
• Characters in an RS who stop to have sex when they're working on a life-and-death timeline or are being chased by the bad guys.
• Wishy-washy characters who can't make up their minds what they want.
• Too-Stupid-To-Live (TSTL) heroines who knowingly go out into the dark of night alone, when a stalker is hunting them.

What's interesting when I look back at my pet-peeves list is that all of the things that bother me center around characterization. Even the bait-and-switch hook, because usually, in that case, there's something about the character(s) I love, and for whatever reason, the author changes it to push the plot along.

When I brainstorm with other authors, it seems the major focus is on plot - on creating new and exciting plots with twists and turns unlike those written by other writers. Of course, books need good plots, but with poor characterization, even the best books fall flat.

Book six of this series comes out next summer, and yes, I'll probably buy it, and yes, I'll probably read it in a day or two as is my pattern. But the eager excitement I felt anticipating book five is gone, and I know not to get my hopes up with the next one.

What kills a book for you? What are your pet peeves when reading? And as a writer, how do you avoid those particular follies in your own work?