Haven’t been here because I haven’t been doing anything but getting settled at my new job. Seriously, that’s it. Not holding out on you.

Case in point: It took me two weeks to read a Harry Potter book. I’m not even READING. I finally finished a book this morning.

56. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire– J.K. Rowling
This has traditionally been one of my favorites of the series, but this time through I had problems. I kept running into spots in the book where the movie did it better. Rowling is just so COMPLICATED. Not in a complex way. She just never smoothed out some of the convoluted plot points that could have made things make more sense. The screenwriters did it for her, later. Also? Rowling doesn’t give Neville Longbottom as much credit as the screenwriters do. In moments where the book makes fun of Neville (in a parallel moment, the movie gave him a chance to shine), I just felt very impatient with her. It’s not fair to compare the original book to the move script, is it? But there it is. It’s cultural phenomenon now—I can’t read the book without the movie running in my head. And the monologue-ing. Good grief, the monologue-ing.

I have to read something else. Brain or no brain, I have to read something else.