Saturday, December 28, 2013

To the One I Judged by Its Cover (A Letter)

Dear Ranger’s Apprentice,

I can remember when I first heard of you, when my best friend tried to tell me how fantastic you were, with your dappled humor and enchanting story. She grinned as she gave your first two books to me, expectant that I would love them just as much as she did. I accepted them politely, vaguely curious about what stories your pages might hide. I put them in my bag and took them home. I put them down in my room. And I completely forgot about you. 

For months.

I am so sorry. Being busy is one thing, but ignoring you for months and months is another. Your cover bored me, so I left you to rot. What kind of barbarous creature does that? By the time I found you again, I could hardly remember anything about you. Just a couple of books. I didn’t care. Might as well get them over with and return them with my apologies for the delay. No point in trying to draw out a relationship that wouldn’t last. 

I opened up The Ruins of Gorlan, waiting to be bored, and fell into you. In a short while I was just as enthralled by Will Treaty’s story as my best friend, falling in love with Halt, Horace, Duncan, Evanlyn, and Alyss. And you never disappointed me. You rock for that. I couldn’t get through the books fast enough, and I found myself happy to discuss Will’s world with my best friend, and encouraged my sister to read them as well.

You were wonderful. You did everything just right. And you were completely unforgettable.

How could a reader deserve such a captivating series when she abandoned and condemned you for your cover? 

I’m sorry. For all that, and more. I’ve doubted you before, and when The Royal Ranger came out, said best friend, sister, and I all panicked loudly at the lunch table. Granted, it was fun, but we should have known you were going to be brilliant even if Horace died. 

It’s impossible to tell you how grateful I am for your constant companionship and heartwarming stories. You’ve given me good times with my friends and better times sitting up when it’s already tomorrow and the only thing keeping me up is you. You’re filled with laughter. I have pages of quotes in a notebook filled with your humor and wisdom I hope will stick with me forever.

Most of all, thank you for not killing Horace. I would have died. And, as a Lannister once said: I like living. 

And now you’re mine. You can’t imagine how happily I accepted your books for Christmas, finding you completely, totally, one-hundred percent my own. Once again you are my companion, and the adventures will never cease.


All My Love,


P.S. Since I wrote you this, I kind of feel like you owe me an apology for keeping me up until 12:30 last night.

Do you have any apologies to make to books you judged by their covers?

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