I've always had my favourite authors. Being a big fan of reading, I think everyone who has an attachment to books will have at least one favourite author. The reading bug bit me when I was 13. I had found a paperback of James Herbert's 'Rats' and from then on all I wanted to do was devour anything he had written.
After my teenage crush on James Herbert, I found David Gemmell and Brian Lumley when I was about 18. Stephen Donaldson made a brief appearance with his 'Thomas Covenant' novels but David Gemmell's 'Druss' and 'Drenai' novels, and Brian Lumley's 'Necroscope' and all the following novels, really lodged themselves into my psyche. I don't know what caused my love of these characters and novels, but I couldn't resist them. I fell completely and fully into their stories.
In my twenties (late, I should add), I discovered Harry Potter - but only after all the kafuffle surrounding the release of the fourth book. I spent a week reading the books, then impatiently waited for the fifth book, which I was terribly disappointed by. Out of all the 'Harry Potter' stories this one was the worst. I stayed with the books until the end, and although there were some unanswered questions left at the conclusion, I very much enjoyed the last book. Enjoy it as I had, 'Prisoner of Azkaban' will remain my favourite, as I was not expecting the twist at the end.
And so we come to my new obsession. It started with 'Stardust'. Yes, you've guessed. My new author love affair is with the writings of Neil Gaiman. I know I've mentioned things in my blog lately regarding Mr. Gaiman, but I find it strange how the fascination with one person's writing can creep up on you.
Like I said, it started with 'Stardust'. I bought it out of interest after hearing about the release of the film. While I enjoyed it as I followed the story, I was unaware of how Mr. Gaiman's style was gently edging its way into my brain. Feeling suitable happy with 'Stardust', I picked up the more substantial 'Neverwhere'. I began reading and soon found myself unable to put the book down. I was champing at the bit (even though I do not slightly resemble a horse) to find out what happened to these characters, completely immersed in the word craft of Mr. Gaiman. Oh, how I felt the grime and slime of the mud and the stench of the ground as Richard fumbled about looking for the boar statuette. I was completely taken in with the inventive use of the names of London Underground stations, and how the characters themselves evolved. I think it is safe to say; I was simply and utterly in awe of the story.
The obsession has only grown of late after I purchased a copy of 'The Wolves In The Walls', even though it was intended for Principessa. The only new thing here was the introduction to the art of Dave McKean. At first I was not overly impressed. But then, as the book progressed, I found myself studying each picture. I can't put my finger on what changed in my perception of the artwork, but I began to see the texture and the depth of the work and now I need to buy anything I can find by these two artists (the word artist and the picture artist) to continue this magical feeling. I only hope I can learn from these masters of their crafts and produce anything half as worthy!
I hate being obsessed!
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