The End of an Era

I wanted to take this opportunity to address something that has been distressing me for the past couple of years, but has most recently gotten entirely out of control.

When I was in high school, I was introduced to a book series by author Laurell K. Hamilton. The main character, Anita Blake, is a vampire hunter. Through the series, there is mystery, intrigue, and a big, healthy dose of sexual tension. The characters are well developed and relatable.

However. Somewhere along the line Laurell seemed to lose her way. The further into the series she got, especially after Obsidian Butterfly, the less of a plot there was, and the more the books were just five hundred pages of softcore porn. And even that didn't last very long before it devolved into hardcore smut. I mean, I like a naughty book as much as the next girl, but Anita evolved from this ass-kicking heroine to a whiny nympho who screws every man anywhere near her.

So, today, Laurell's new Anita Blake book, Blood Noir, came out. This is the first time in over ten years that I didn't haul ass to the book store to snag a copy. Honestly, I see no point in reading a book full of poorly written porno, where Anita's only contribution to the story line - what little story line there is - is to screw every single man.

Over it. Done. Laurell, I miss Anita. The old Anita. She's become like one of those bands, where I love the early work, but once she became popular, and started performing for the masses, she lost her appeal.

Anyway, until I hear that Laurell has gone back to Anita's roots, I suppose I'll be avoiding her work. It saddens me to say it. I can only hope Laurell reads the reviews on the web and takes to heart what her early fans are saying.