My first foray into the work of Paula Volsky was her novel Illusion, a book that had been lying around my apartment, waiting to be read. It's a rather large book, and I've been spoiled by my Kindle when it comes to reading. That font size too small? Well, I'll just change it. Hate the font itself? Well, I'll just change that too.
Don't get me wrong, I love the feel of a physical book. I love the smell of the pages, the texture of paper against my fingers, the weight of a book in my hands, but there are times, especially with larger books, that the overall comfort level is just higher with my Kindle. Unfortunately in this case, her work is not readily available on the Kindle and thus I finally picked up that book off the shelf and read it like people used to do back in the old days. /sarcasm
I loved Illusion. Loved it. A lot. Paula Volsky has such a command of language. She is wordy but not overbearingly so. Everything feels deliberate and beautiful and I'm incredibly jealous of the flow of her work. She is one of those authors whose writing styles I wish I could infuse a bit of into my own work.
But all that aside, I had another novel of hers hanging about the apartment and decided since I loved Illusion so much, I'd give The Wolf of Winter a try. So far I've been really drawn in to the world she has built. All the things I loved about Illusion are tucked within the pages of this book. It's beautifully crafted, interesting, and the characters are well fleshed out. And let me not forget to mention, she made me go from feeling sorry for a character to deeply hating him in under 200 pages. Like, really, really hating him. I kind of hope he gets a slice of Joffrey pie.
I think after this I'll be picking up yet another of her novels, The Luck of Relian Kru.
For now, I'll stop gushing and get back to reading.