“The best fantasy is written in the language of dreams. It is alive as dreams are alive, more real than real ... for a moment at least ... that long magic moment before we wake.
Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab. Fantasy tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer. Reality is beans and tofu, and ashes at the end. Reality is the strip malls of Burbank, the smokestacks of Cleveland, a parking garage in Newark. Fantasy is the towers of Minas Tirith, the ancient stones of Gormenghast, the halls of Camelot. Fantasy flies on the wings of Icarus, reality on Southwest Airlines. (...)
They can keep their heaven. When I die, I'd sooner go to middle Earth.”
― George R.R. Martin
^{THIS}
My Star Rating:
1 Star - At the end of the day: BOO. Super Boo. A COMPLETE WASTE OF TIME.
2 Stars - Okay, while this book wouldn't be ideal to try to save should the apocalypse come to fruition, it had a few redeeming qualities.
3 Stars - It was alright. Something about it was worth me saying "Eh. I guess I'm not too pissed that I read that."
4 Stars - I liked it. Okay, I like, liked it. The story had symmetry, the characters were well thought out and none of the situations seemed too contrived. While this was pretty good it lacked that certain Joie de vivre that would have made it Figata! (I like to be quite cheeky at times)
5 Stars - I LOVED this read. If I were the kind of person that re-read fantastic works of art in prose this would be re-read until the glue came away from the spine.
WTF Shusterman???? 
