Things That Annoy You About Your Favorite Book Series
When it comes to your favorite book series, it’s hard to do anything but tell people it’s the best thing ever and they’re dummies for “applying to college” when they could be reading it. But there are always little things about those books that bug you—nothing so big it makes you turn on your cherished characters, but something weird or silly enough to snap you out of your 50 words-per-second pace. Since we all need to vent and this is a safe space, let’s come clean about the parts of some bigtime YA series that are just hard to get behind.
Remember that metaphorical beast in Harry’s chest? You probably do, because it was a really angsty and even worse than Hagrid’s sense of grammar. Basically, whenever Harry was crushing on Ginny but didn’t know what to do about it, he would compare all his jealousy and guilt to some monster living inside him. It was hilariously dramatic but also super terrible. Which is why more than anything, it was a relief when Harry and Ginny got together (and Ron was cool with it). Their relationship meant that dumb monster could finally roam in greener pastures with all the other rage beasts that used to live in students’ aortas. The elusive Mr. Norris was probably there, too.
Have you ever noticed the Inheritance series’ absurd similarities to Star Wars? The first 100 or so pages of Eragon sets us up for the big moment where Eragon discovers his childhood home ruined and his uncle Garrow—who raised him—on the verge of death. It’s super sad, but doesn’t it remind anyone an eensy bit of Episode IV? (Though if that’s what they were going for, there absolutely should’ve been more talk of going to the Tosche station for some power converters.) As we continue into the sequels, there’s a twist with supposed orphan Eragon’s dad and the whole thing where he’s a farm kid who becomes a rebel leader after discovering hidden talents. Most people watch Star Wars and think, “Man, lightsabers are cool,” but it sounds like Christopher Paolini watched it and thought, “Where the dragons at?”
So the “big three” gods—Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades—vowed to stop having kids because they were too dangerous, while all the other gods continued procreating. Sure, the Big Three’s kids have much stronger powers. But just from an objective standpoint, wouldn’t the Olympians be concerned about gods of, say, wisdom and war breeding with mortals? Ever heard of an “evil genius”? You know, someone who’s really intelligent, and uses their brains to destroy the world? Or what about people with “bloodlust,” a.k.a. terrifying non-vampires that literally crave bloodshed? Let’s not even think about the havoc Mr. D’s kids could wreak if he went back to his wild ways.
The Hunger Games
Then there’s Plutarch’s interaction with Katniss at that party in Catching Fire. (Speaking of Plutarch, how crazy perfect is Philip Seymour Hoffman for that role? He’s going to Head Gamemaker all over the place.) For a girl who’s eerily intuitive and very smart, Katniss somehow misses the obvious hints the dude drops that he’s part of the rebellion. The phrase, “It starts at midnight,” is vague, granted. But saying that while shoving a mockingjay watch into the face of a girl who caused a stir wearing a similar pin in the Hunger Games is something only people who are secretly rebels or secretly axe murderers do.
And finally, let’s not forget that part in New Moon when Edward thinks Bella is dead, which is somehow even sillier than that time they named a child Renesmee. Because if Edward feared his "true love 4 lyfe" was gone, wouldn’t he want to confirm this theory before launching into crazy reckless mode? As it stands, “going off a vague vision my sister had and then having a super vague phone call with Jacob, but inexplicably pretending to be my father for this conversation ‘cause why not, right?” is pretty lazy detective work. Eddie shouldn't quit his day job as an aloof teen to become the next Sherlock.
What bugs you about your favorite books?