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Portals of Solitude and Hate
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(Heh, I love a good ridiculously overwrought journal title.)

I played Portal yesterday, for a couple of hours before work and a few hours in the evening, and finished it. Awesome, awesome game. I wish I had a portal gun. It would make life so much more interesting. (Though I'd be even fatter than I am now, since it would cut down on the considerable amount of walking I do if I could teleport from my balcony to the lake or the grocery store or the farmer's market or whatever.)


Wah! Heather and River are leaving for Indiana in two days! I will be so lonely! (In fact, to prevent extreme loneliness, I'm hanging out with friends a lot this weekend. Which will help, but... three days away from my baby? I've survived stretches away from Heather many times, but never River!)


Here's someone who really hated Blood Engines and quit reading it after a hundred pages. (They do have good taste in covers, as they like Dan's artwork.) Can't argue with the problems they have with my protagonist -- she is cataclysmically bitchy, deliberately so, and she's intentionally unglamorous. Her character definitely rubs some readers the wrong way. (Though a reader who doesn't like the bits of the book with the sex party and the pornomancer is probably a reader I'm never going to win over anyway -- that's my favorite part of the novel.) This is a book that consistently seems to get "I LOVED IT!" or "I HATED IT" rather more than "Eh, it was okay." Which is good. Strong reactions are better than indifference.

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